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A THOROUGH-BRED MONGREL 











“ I wish you wouldn’t interrupt me when I’m busy.” 
Copyrighted June, 1899. 


A 

Thorough-bred 

Mongrel 

! The Tale of a Dog told by a 
Dog to Dovers of Dogs 

By 

Stephen Townesend, F.R.C.S. 

With a Preface by 

Frances Hodgson Burnett 

Illustrated by 

J. A. Shepherd 



New York 

Frederick A. Stokes Company 
Publishers 







THE LIBRARY OF 
CONGRESS, 
Two Copi E8 Received 

APR. 15 1901 

Copyright entry 

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Copyright , 1901 
by 

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“H ETT” 

AN INTRODUCTION 

HAT she is not a ?7iere shadow 
of the imagination , but a 
intimate whose every hour is 
spent lying at one's feet , trotting 
h one>s s ^ e > or gazing into 
one's eyes with lenient affection , seems to me to 
add interest to her literary effort. And in a 
large circle of human acquaintance formed 
within the last ten years , I frequently reflect that 
I can count no more clearly defined individuality 
than that of the little person who is the original 
of the heroine , and the supposed narrator of the 
story I now preface. I say “ person " because 
I feel that to speak of her as a mere dog would 
be an inadequate thing , and — if she were to 
hear of it — would cause her serious offence. I 
once knew a little girl whose dread was that — 
through the indiscreet remarks of the uninitiated 
— her favourite child plaything might discover 
that it was only a doll. That Hett should hear 
herself referred to as a dog , tout court, would 
seem an indelicate and offensive thing. The 
judicial nature of her character , the clearness 
of her intellect , the dignified sweetness of her 



IV 


INTRODUCTION 


reserve , seem without doubt to demand more 
refinement of consideration . 

Some canine pets are beautiful , some are ac- 
complished , most of them are affectionate. Hett 
is too dignified for tricks , affection is too slight 
a word to express the nature of her feeling , and 
she is not a pet but an intelligent and sympa- 
thetic friend of the family — a sort of relation , 
combining the sentiments of mother , aunt and 
patroness . It is in fact her intellect which is 
the notable feature in her delightful and ad- 
mirable personality . She was bought from the 
Lost Dogs' Home at Battersea , some ten years 
ago. Her master , being a dog-lover , had gone 
to see the place. Among the scores of restless , 
leaping , barking and howling creatures , he ob- 
served a black Skye , who , in the midst of the 
pandemonium of din , stood silently upon her hind 
legs , placing her fore paws upon the railing of 
the cage , and gazing at him with pained de- 
cor uni. She was rather suggestive of a refined 
widowed lady , who , having lost her way, found 
herself involved in a howling mob in the City. 
She made no plaints, merely appealed to him in 
silence as to a gentleman who would comprehend 
the painfulness of a position so annoying, and 
relieve her from its embarrassment as a mere 


INTRODUCTION 


v. 


matter of courtesy. He purchased her at once y 
took her home to his chambers in the "Temple , 
and from that hour they have been two souls 
with but a single thought , two hearts that beat 
,as one. 

T o me there has always been something almost 
tragic in the personality of this strange little 
creature. She is small and black and shaggy , 
she has a grave little face , one of her ears 
stands erect while the other droops. The effect 
is something similar to that produced by a per- 
son who has the habit of lifting one eyebrow. 
The erect ear is a mere mental expression. It 
means that a creature who thinks so much and 
cannot speak lives in a continual strain of in- 
quiry. I am convinced that she wants to know 
the meaning of Life and Heath— of Absence , 
which to her seems Heath — of sad faces and 
of happy ones. At times she sits down and 
ponders deeply. I have seen her do it. The 
tragedy of her is that she cannot speak. That 
a creature who plainly thinks so much and so 
earnestly , should have no words , seems at times 
uncanny and unnatural. We , who are so much 
less discreet , so much less serious and consistent , 
have the power to express all our incompetencies 
— to say any foolish thing or fatal one. Hett 


VI, 


INTRODUCTION 


cannot even correct or reprove us, but must re- 
main silent even before fatuities. Her unspoken 
summing up, however, of the illogical and un- 
just is, I have observed, a serious thing. Her 
gravely speculative gaze, when fixed upon the 
foolish or unreasoning, is a thing to cause the 
fatuous or criminal to blench. One is always 
conscious of her as an audience; one addresses 
her in the ordinary tone used to one's friends, 
one asks questions of her and she replies — with 
her eyes — with strange, pathetically human little 
sounds — with her caressing, insistent nose and 
expressive body. We are conscious that she re- 
fects upon us, that she makes mental reservations 
— that it is only this curious inability to speak 
which prevents her aiding us with advice, ad- 
monition and encouragement. In a large country 
house, constantly filled with changing parties of 
guests, she occupies a defnite position. She does 
not frisk, she has none of the appetites which 
make for weakness; no one would think of offer- 
ing her food as a bribe or luxury — she would 
regard it as incomprehensible. She requires our 
society, she feels that we require hers; she listens 
to conversation and analyses- it. Nothing is more 
common than for someone to say: “ Hett is 
thinking ” — so and so — or “I wonder what Hett 


INTRODUCTION 


Vll. 


has to say.” So when the story of a dog was to 
he written , what more natural than that. Hett 
should write it f Hett had the point of view, 
the experience , the contemplative mind of the ob- 
server. It was in the power of the less highly 
discriminating creature — the Human — to sup- 
ply her with that speech which she is so curi- 
ously denied , and which , if she possessed it, 
might lead to our so much greater enlightenment . 
The story was founded upon certain rather 
amusing facts — Hett heard them discussed. Her 
reflections upon them would surely add value to 
them and make them doubly entertaining. Her 
friends and acquaintances, her followers, ad- 
mirers and dependents — feel that this has been 
done. 










CONTENTS 


K>« 

CHAPTER I. 

PAGE 

THE ARRIVAL . . . . . I 

CHAPTER II. 

A SUSPICIOUS CHARACTER . . . 27 

CHAPTER III. 

“wot if i ain’t?” . . . . .46 

CHAPTER IV. 

THE BARNHAM DOG SHOW 68 

CHAPTER V. 

A NIGHTMARE AND A RECONCILIATION 97 

CHAPTER VI. 

THE FALL OF THE CHIHUAHUA . . . 122 

CHAPTER VII. 

BILLY AND I MAKE FRIENDS . . .146 

CHAPTER VIII. 

THE MYSTERY SOLVED . , 1 60 




LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS 

-#o« - 

PAGE 

1. * “ I wish you wouldn’t interrupt me when I’m busy” iv 

2. “ I simply devoured literature ” . .5 

3. “ Both Jock and I broke forth into a chorus of 

involuntary howls ” . . . 15 

4. “ Mr. Singwell was thundering out of the piano 

‘ The National Anthem of Mexico .26 

5. “I obtained my first good view, of the Chihuahua” 29 

6. “ ‘ I congratulate you,’ telepathed Jock to me ”• . 35 

7. “ The same to you, Jock, and many of them ” . .39 

X. “ I christen thee ‘ His Majesty, King of Chihua- 
hua’ ” . . . .43 

9. “ Good morning, Hett ” . . -49 

10. “ Jock cocked his ears” . . . 51 

ir.* Before the bath . . . 5? 

1 2. : ’ : In the bath . . . . .52 

13. * After the bath ..... 53 

14. * Toilet complete . . . . - 53 

“ He offered to fight me ” .... 55 

* Photographs from life by Bradshaw & Sons, Newgate Street, 

ix 


15 


X 


LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS 


PAGE 

16. On parade . . . . . -59 

17. “ Wot if I ain't ? ” . . . . . 63 

18. <f< Voila two!’ as I once heard a French poodle 

remark ; ‘ see the pair of us ’ ” . . 71 

19. “ But sharp with her teeth ” . . . . 89 

20. His Majesty triumphant . . . -95 

21. “ I had not a wag left ” . . . -99 

22. A Thorough-bred Mongrel .... 107 

23. “ My Pa says it is very characteristic ” . .111 

24. “ ‘ Billy,’ said I, in a short yap, looking over the edge 

of the basket ” . . . . . 123 

25. “ Drunken Billy bounded up in the air like a shot 

rabbit” . . . . ,.126 

26. “ He seemed to regard the proceedings as specially 

designed for his delectation ” . . . 135 

27. The fall of the Chihuahua .... 143 

28. “ ‘ I did it ! I did it ! ’ I snarled fiercely ” . .151 

29. “ I wish I wos dead ” . . . . . 155 

30. “ Jock would have none of it ” . . .161 

31. “ Well, you’re a beauty, you are — a real beauty ! ” . 165 

32. * “Dear me ! what is the word I want ?” . .168 

33. “ What in the name of heaven is that ? ” . . 171 

H 

34. The End ...... 175 

* Photograph from life by Bradshaw & Soils, Newgate Street. 


CHAPTER I 


THE ARRIVAL 


S I said to Jock the other morning, as we were 



^ ** lying on the lawn waiting for the breakfast 
gong to sound, “ A sensible dog takes human beings 
as he finds them. They have their good points and 
their bad points (some of them have no points at all), 
but they mean well, and they are the most intelligent 
animals we have.” 

Jock growled. 

“ Look here,” he said, holding a bone between his 
paws which he had sneaked from the kitchen on the 
previous evening, “Look at my case — I’ve let my 
people go travelling by themselves and how do 
they show their ‘ intelligence ’ ? I’m left to the 
servants, an underbred set of bipeds who don’t know 
how to wait on a dog properly. I’m not even 
decently valeted, my coat hasn’t been brushed for a 
week, and I haven’t got a collar on. Look at my 


2 A THOROUGH-BRED MONGREL 

last night’s dinner, biscuits and water —water — no 
gravy, mind you, and this beastly bone to finish up 
with." 

I knew it was all swagger about the ibone, but I 
just wagged quietly to myself and said nothing. It 
is no good arguing with a collie. Big dogs are 
generally irrational, and settle their disputes after 
the manner of Humans, by brute force. Besides, I 
felt sorry for Jock. I always go down into the 
country for a little ratting and rabbiting every 
summer, and this having been an unusually heavy 
season in town, my people have rented his people’s 
kennel for six months. Jock had allowed his family 
to run over to the Continent alone, Jock not being 
fond of railway travelling, and he found himself in 
the anomalous position of being a stranger on his 
own premises. But there was no good growling 
about it. Besides, it was probably his own fault. 
My people would no more think of travelling without 
me than they would of chasing a hare across a field. 
If they had any such scheme, I should put my hind 
paw down on it promptly. I should appeal to their 
reason. I should — SIT UP. I never knew that to 
fail even with the most scentless and incanine of 
Humans. When a dog has any trouble with a well- 
bred Biped one may bet one’s last biscuit it is 


THE ARRIVAL 


generally his own fault. Of course, there is such a 
thing as being too kind — even to Human Beings — and 
then they are apt to presume. For instance, in town 
I should never dream of going out for a walk without 
proper attendance. In the country I often go 
rabbiting alone (Humans are so slow in their move- 
ments and so apt to get lost), but I never tell my 
people lest they should take advantage of it and shirk 
their proper responsibilities. I have known some 
really good Bipeds ruined in this way. They get 
careless and inattentive, and one has always to be 
reminding them of their duties. They have the same 
trouble with the lower breeds amongst themselves, 
bad servants, careless tradespeople, and others. The 
more consideration you show such animals, the more 
they abuse it. The point is to nip these things in 
the kitten and not wait to fight them as cats. The 
other day one of my people wanted me to fetch my 
own collar. I felt this might prove a dangerous 
precedent, so I sacrificed my reputation for intelli- 
gence to my principles and, smiling in an imbecile 
manner, pretended not to understand. With Humans, 
if you want a thing done, never do it yourself. How- 
ever, it was difficult to drive anything into Jock’s 
thick head. He wasn’t a bit intellectual, and thought 
more of chasing a sheep on the hillside than of 
psychological discussion. 


4 A THOROUGH-BRED MONGREL 

“ Look here, Jock,” I said, rolling lazily over on to 
my back and stretching my paws stiffly in the air as an 
indication to my master that he might come and rub 
my tummer, “ growl as you will, you can’t deny that 

Human Beings are not only useful but intelligent — • 

% 

highly intelligent — animals.” 

“In what way?” snapped Jock, in a voice that 
might be heard in the adjoining county. 

“ In many ways,” I replied with studied mildness, 
and assuming a more dignified position ; “but first 
let me tell you that in the best circles it is not the 
custom to converse in barks suggestive of a bull, or 
of that most detestable of Human inventions, the 
horn of a motor car. You are not addressing a flock 
of sheep, but an educated lady, who allows no dog, 
big or little, to speak to her like that. -And I’ll, 
further, trouble you for my tail when you’ve done 
lying on it.” 

Jock apologised, and, to conceal his discomfiture, 
snapped at a fly, which he missed. It is often the 
way with these big country collies. They have no 
manners and less education. Had it not been for 
my desire to improve Jock, I should have left him to 
himself and his sheep-dreams. Personally I had had 
unusual educational advantages. As a puppy I was 
brought up in the house of a famous scientist, and 


THE ARRIVAL 


5 


had the free run of the library. I simply devoured 
literature. I should have remained scientifc to this 
day, and Jock would never have experienced the 
advantage of knowing me, had I not made a horrible 
discovery. The scientist proved to be a criminal of 
the worst type. Amongst his books I found what 
was simply a treatise on murder under the title, 



“ I simply devoured literature.” 


“ Experiments on Living Animals.” I read — and 
destroyed it. A difference of opinion followed, and 
I felt I must dispose of him. The next time I took 
him a walk, I allowed him to get lost. 

I had seen more of the world in a week than Jock 
in a lifetime, and it seemed my duty, as an educated 
Skye, to enlighten his bucolic mind. 


6 


A THOROUGH-BRED MONGREL 


Yes, Jock,” I continued, “ Human Beings are 
useful and intelligent in many ways. They are 
amusing to caress, clean in their habits, comfortable 
to sit on. They never tire of making things for us. to 
destroy, they ” 

“ See here,” broke in Jock, laying his head on his 
front paws and looking me straight in the face ; 
“ when I was young and went in for sheep, I kept a 
shepherd for the show of the thing. I might as well 
have kept a scarecrow. He could no more have 
brought a flock of sheep down the hillside without 
me than he could have caught a hare in the open field. 
Who was the more useful and intelligent, he or I ? ” 

“ But, my dear Jock ” 

“ I have a friend down in the village,” continued 
Jock, not allowing me to get a bark in edgeways, “ an 
eccentric old dog called ‘Fido’ who keeps a blind 
man. Fido found him groping about in the lanes 
one day as helpless as a new-born pup, took him 
home, and made a pet of him — I’d as soon make a 
pet of a dead sheep. Fido is tied to him for the rest 
of his life, has to take him out every morning, drag 
him about by a string, carry a tin can around and 
collect biscuits for him, take him back to kennel and 
watch him through the night, and yet you call Human 
Beings useful and intelligent.’ 


THE ARRIVAL 


7 


“My dear Jock, you mustn’t take shepherds and 
blind men as representative breeds of Humans. Some 
of us, out of philanthropy (and there are no philan- 
thropists like ourselves) keep a blind man ; some of 
you collies have a taste for shepherds, but they are 
both confessedly mongrels, being the only bipeds 
who are allowed to live with us without being 
expected to pay a licence.” 

“Yes, but they are not the only Bipeds who do.” 

“ What do you mean ? ” 

“ I mean,” said Jock, scratching his ear with his 
hind-paw in a knowing manner, “ that Humans are 
often frauds , and what dog would condescend to be 
that?” 

I turned one eye on Jock’s bone, and one eye on 
Jock, cocked my left ear, and said nothing. 

“Yes, frauds,” repeated Jock, lumbering up on to his 
great feet and giving himself a huge shake to cover 
his confusion. “ I know a spaniel, a regular aristocrat 
and very proud of his descent, who took up with a 
medical man, a real Vet., mind you, not one of the 
so-called doctors who attend to Humans only — a man 
who ought to have had some sense of the respect due 
to a dog. Now what do you think'? The man 
actually was unlicensed. Of course they fined him 
heavily. But imagine the humiliation of my friend, 


8 


A THOROUGH-BRED MONGREL 


who had to appear in court! I’d like to zvorry a man 
like that.” 

“ Which sentiment, Jock, is a disgrace to caninity. 
You make me feel that the more I see of dogs, such 
dogs as you, the more I like Humans.” 

“I’ll be muzzled if I do,” said Jock, scratching him- 
self violently. 

“ Don’t swear, Jock,” I replied quietly, “ and as 
you've no manners you’ll excuse me leaving you. 
The gong has just sounded and I see my master 
looking for me.” 

“ Looking for you,” growled Jock savagely ; “ What 
does he want to look for ? Why can’t he scent you ? 
What’s the good of Humans ? They can’t run as fast 
as we can, they can’t see better, they can’t hear as 
well, and as for scent, they could hardly point a sewer 
at twenty paces.” 

To these rude remarks I did not condescend to 
reply, but, following my master into the house, sought 
my customary place under the table. There is a 
great deal to be learned from under a table, and yet 
it is a point of view entirely neglected by humans at 
the present day. In the good old times, I believe, 
this was not the case, and humans" frequently dis- 
appeared beneath the table (especially after a hearty 
meal), to contemplate those characteristics of their 


THE ARRIVAL 


9 


fellow-creatures which I find so interesting and so full 
of unconscious revelation. On this particular morn- 
ing a si‘ngle glance at the dozen pairs of Human paws 
around me told me I should not be at a loss for 
occupation. My “ Pa ” (I like to think of the present 
master I own as my father, for I love him, and would 
lay down my life for him) had got his outdoor paws 
on, and would probably want me to take him for a 
walk. Dr. Coghlan and pretty little Miss Seaton 
wore tennis shoes, and would be disappointed if I 
were not at hand to field for them. Miss Bretford, a 
jolly American girl, was dressed in a skirt so short, 
and exposing such an amount of limb (at least as 
seen from where I was stationed) as only to be 
excused by the contemplation of an approaching 
bicycle ride. The literary members of the party were 
evidently all prepared for indoor work. Of these the 
most distinguished was my Pa’s hostess Mrs. Flufton 
Bennett, whose dainty little feet peeped forth in the 
neatest of shoes. I noticed, with a feeling of shame at 
my own want of thoroughness, that Mr. Singwell still 
managed to balance on his hind-paws the remnants 
of the slippers I had worried the week previously. 
These, combined with trousers hitched up at the 
knees, and a trifle frayed below, displayed his 
characteristic feet to their fullest advantage, and 


io 


A THOROUGH-BRED MONGREL 


testified to that simplicity of disposition and in- 
genuous disregard for appearances which is one of 
his many charms. The other literary pair of limbs 
on view were much, very much, “eri evidence.” They 
belonged to Miss Letitia Fletcher, whose strong, 
manly feet, planted well apart and firmly on the 
ground, suggested exceptional self-assurance and an 
almost aggressive virility. To be sure, at the present 
moment, Miss Letitia was engaged in a polemical 
conversation (Letitia’s conversations always were 
polemical) with Mr. Singwell. Letitia was being 
chaffed, and Letitia didn’t like it. 

“ Now you children,” interrupted Mrs. Flufton 
Bennett, “ when you have done quarrelling, I want to 
read you a letter I have just received from — whom do 
you think, Viv ? ” addressing her son and heir, a fine, 
healthy looking boy of sixteen. “ You will remember 
him at Washington, John Anthony. He writes from 
Chi-hu-a-hu-a, in Mexico.” 

“What place?” asked Singwell. 

“ Chi-hu-a-hu-a,” repeated Mrs. Bennett, with 
deliberation. 

“It is commonly pronounced ‘ Shiwawa,’ ” piped 
Letitia ostentatiously. 

“ Mrs. Bennett could never be common,” remarked 
Singwell. “Chi-hu-a-hu-a sounds much more original. 


THE ARRIVAL 


1 1 

To live in a place with such a name is to be distin- 
guished.” 

“ In Spanish,” continued Letitia severely, and 
ignoring Mr. Singwell’s attempt to treat the matter 
lightly, “ in Spanish ‘ hu ’ corresponds to the English 
‘w’ — the word is Shivvawa.” 

“ I am entirely unprejudiced on the subject,” 
rejoined her hostess. “ Shiwawa let it be.’/ 

“ Dear Mrs. Flufton Bennett, — To-day I 
am sending to you, under the care of my 
brother, who is just leaving here for Europe, one of 
the ‘ Chihuahua ’ dogs I promised to secure for you, 
if at the peril of my life. They are the smallest 
creatures, I believe, of the dog species Nature pro- 
duces. The one I send you weighs one pound and 
three-quarters, and the soft-eyed Mexican from whom 
I bought him swore by all she held holy that he was 
three years old, had attained his full growth, and that 
ages would not add one ounce to his weight. I am 
told that these dogs are so intelligent that they 
can be taught to understand any language, and so 
sensitive that their large eyes fill with tears at 
a word of reproach. I have not yet seen this one 
weep with any degree of bitterness, and I have 
not had time to try him with Ollendorf, but when 


12 


A THOROUGH-BRED MONGREL 


I see him again I have no doubt he will be entirely 
polyglot. 

“ With kindest regards, 

“ Sincerely yours, 

“John Anthony. 

“ P.S. — My brother has promised to deliver the dog 
with his own hands at your country house, where I 
believe you are now staying. You may expect him 
any time after the receipt of this letter.” 

There was a murmur of Human voices, but I could 
hear nothing distinctly. There seemed to be a 
burning weight at my heart, that turned me sick and 
dizzy. The blood surged in my ears, my tail hung 
motionless, and my nose became dry and parched. 
A “ Chihuahua ” dog ! A dog from Mexico ! A 
dog whose telepathic processes might be entirely 
different to ours, and who perhaps barked in a 
different language — an interloper. It was an out- 
rage on Jock and myself! The thing was not to be 
endured. The glamour of Mr. Singwell’s toes was 
lost to me. I walked from under the table and met 
Jock nose to nose. 

“ Did you hear?” growled Jock. 

“ Yes, I heard — come outside and talk it over.” 

We went out into the sunshine and lay down on 


THE ARRIVAL 


13 


the gravel walk. VVe could distinctly hear the hum 
of Human voices from within. 

“The dear, sweet little thing!” Mrs. Bennett was 
saying. “Just fancy, only one pound and three- 
quarters in weight ! ” 

“ The angel love ! ” echoed Letitia. “ You’ll be able 
to carry him in your muff.” 

“ I hope you’ll muzzle the animal,” said Singwell. 
“ I don’t trust these foreign hounds.” 

Jock and I involuntarily wagged our tails. 

“ They are most sensitive creatures, these Chihuahua 
dogs,” piped Letitia ; “the restraint of a muzzle breaks 
their hearts, and a whipping is enough to kill them.” 

“ I believe it is true,” said Dr. Coghlan in his grave, 
earnest drawl, “ that the eyes of these animals will fill 
with tears at the sound of music, or even on hearing a 
story told in pathetic inflections of the voice.” 

From the turn of Jock’s upper lip at that moment 
I anticipated that when the “ Chihuahua ” arrived, he 
would have something more than music to rely on for 
the exhibition of his capacity for shedding tears. 

“ It will be an extremely useful animal to you 
literary people,” said Miss Bretford, with her 
American inflection. “ When you are doubtful as to 
the effect, of your last chapter, you can ‘ try it on 
the dog.’ ” 


A THOROUGH-BRED MONGREL 


14 

“That’s a very good idea,” cackled Miss Letitia, 

“ don’t you think so, Mr. Singwell. The moment 
the ‘ Chihuahua ’ arrives I shall read him the whole 
of my new story.” 

“ I don’t approve of cruelty to animals,” replied 
Singwell, in an abstracted manner. “ Eh, oh ! I beg 
your pardon, I thought you were talking of muzzles. 
Oh, yes, splendid idea. The ‘Chihuahua’ shall hear 
that four act play of mine, and if he survives, I’ll try 
it on the public.” 

“ That dog is going to lead a life,” remarked Miss 
Bretford, demurely. “ Who would be a ‘ Chihuahua’?” 

“ Ah, but at meal times,” said Singwell, “ what a 
hero he will be. Carried in on a silken pillow, with a 
pink ribbon tied round his dear little neck, fed on the 
daintiest food by the daintiest of fingers, and knowing 
that on the wink of his limpid eye and on the wag of 
his curly tail, hang the making or the marring of 
unpublished masterpieces.” 

I don’t know how it happened or why it occurred 
but at this particular moment both Jock and I broke 
forth into a chorus of involuntary howls. I have 
since tried to analyse the feelings of the moment, 
and the reason of this emotional display. It could 
not have been jealousy, for we did not know the 
“Chihuahua” dog. But we howled, and considering 


THE ARRIVAL 


15 


the disparity in our weights, I believe I howled the 
louder. 

A splish-splash of water from the window and a 
sudden sensation of damp cold, recalled me to my 
senses, and in turning round I found I was indebted 
for this kind attention to my master. 



involuntary howls.” 

“ Get off, you brutes ! what are you yelping about 
here ? ” 

I got off. 

It was the best I could do. It flattered my Pa’s 
vanity as a person of importance. Besides, I do not 
like cold water. True to the good blood that runs 
in my veins I endeavoured to preserve a perfect 
equanimity and even to express an approbation 


1 6 A THOROUGH-BRED MONGREL 

which I did not feel. My tail, however, refused to 
wag. It hung behind me like a lump of lead. I had 
no control over it. It dropped between my legs. It 
was an unruly member. I looked at it reproachfully 
— I moved away — it followed me. This reassured 
me to some extent : I felt that I should soon have 
complete mastery over my whole being. 

Jock had lumbered on ahead. I joined him. 

“Jock,” I said, “you’re right. Humans are not 
perfect : I could not live without them, but they are 
not perfects” 

We lay on the grass for a moment, quietly enough, 
but with our hearts full of angry passions. 

But no living creature, canine or human, could have 
resisted the happy influence of that soft and smiling 
morning. The moist blue haze was just lifting from 
the meadows and melting under the glad warmth of 
the summer sun. A sweet, earth-scented freshness 
seemed to rise from the dewy turf and to fill the very 
flowers and trees with the joy of living. From time 
to time, the stupid, tender-eyed cattle lifted their 
heads and sniffed the morning air. Whilst so merrily 
rang the music of the birds that it excited even the 
admiration of the stable-cat who was gazing with 
hungry tenderness at the little choristers beyond her 
reach. 


the arrival 


ti 


“Jock,” I barked, with sudden inspiration, “Jock, 
let’s leave the Humans to take care of themselves. 
Let’s go hunting.” 

Up bounded Jock in an instant, then pulled him- 
self together remembering his dignity and importance 
as a sports-dog. 

“Didn’t know you were a ‘sport,’” he said, lower- 
ing his chin coquettishly to the ground and vainly 
endeavouring to stop the joyous wagging of his tail. 

“ I’m not, Jock,” I replied, “ I’m not, but I must take 
violent exercise to work the ‘ Chihuahua ’ off my 
mind.” 

Jock gave a wild whoop. 

“ Hurrah ! Come on ! ” And off we went with a 
rush — Jock at a long, striding gallop and I after 
him in leaps and bounds. The fresh morning breeze 
swept over our faces and through our coats, and 
filled us with life and vigour. I flew at Jock’s throat 
in an ecstasy of exhilaration. Jock rolled me over 
and over, but I was up in an instant and after him 
again. Away we bounded through the long meadow 
grass, bathing our coats in the crystal dew, away 
up the hillside, skirting the Winthorpe Farm, 
and scattering dismay through a flock of cackling 
Winthorpe geese. Onward we dashed into the 
Winthorpe woods beyond, barking derisively at the 

3 




is A THOROUGH-BRED MONGREL 

crazy, worm-eaten notice-board, which in half- 
obliterated characters threatened the “ strictest rigour 
of the law” to Human trespassers and “Death” to 
dogs. Onwards, through the thick underwood and 
spreading bracken, onwards over the open stretches 
of velvet moss, snapping in wantonness at the dancing 
sunbeams that shimmered through the trees, or at 
some rolling leaf that fluttered in the wind. Onwards, 
still onwards to the open ; onwards, up the hillside to 
the moor. Oh ! the balmy freshness of the air as we 
scampered away through the purple heather, away 
through the waves of gorse and bramble until at 
last we flung ourselves panting upon a piece of turf, 
sweet with the odour of thyme, too breathless and 
exhausted to do aught but hang out our tongues and 
look at each other and grin. 

Fortunately, we dogs have powers of telepathy 
unknown to Humans and can readily communicate 
with each other by more subtle methods than speech. 

“What a glorious run!” — “What a magnificent 
run ! ” we telepathed to each other. 

And so it had been. We had chased some hundreds 
of bunnies, although we had caught none. This rather 
pleased me than otherwise, for though I enjoy hunting 
a rabbit and giving him a friendly nip of the tail, 
when occasion serves and my legs are quick enough, 


THE ARRIVAL 


19 


I don’t like to see the defenceless, inoffensive little 
beasts gripped in the back and thrown up in the air 
as Jock deals with them. That’s one thing I can’t 
understand in sorpe Humans, who in all other respects 
may be civilised and even gentle, their love of what 
they call “ sport.” “ Sport ! ” with no possibility of 
danger to the hunter, with no chance of escape to the 
hunted. “ Sport ” to stand laughing in the warm 
sunshine at Monte Carlo, or at Hurlingham under 
the patronage of Royalty, and to shatter to pieces 
bewildered pigeons as they escape from the cramped 
confinement of airless traps to fly out into the open 
vault of the heavens. “ Sport ” to shoot down by 
thousands the wild birds of the sea, as they float 
twixt the blue of the sky and ocean, leaving them 
lifeless, to rot on the surface of the waves, or after 
days of untold suffering to be cast up as so much 
sensitive refuse on the shore. These were the 
thoughts that flashed through my mind, but happily 
only for a moment. The sense of physical fatigue 
overpowered us and we fell asleep. 

The rays of the sun were tinged with amber and 
were casting long shadows on the hillside, as we 
trotted homewards late in the afternoon. I still felt 
rather tired and stiff, which was not unnatural. My 
thoroughbred legs were short, almost to stumpiness, 


20 


A THOROUGH-BRED MONGREL 


and I had to take twice as many steps as Jock to 
cover the same ground. Jock, however, was in the 
wildest spirits, “just in the humour,” he said, “for a 
piece of devilment.” The opportunity soon occurred. 
The gully down which we were scampering ended in 
an open expanse of moorland. On the right was 
a little hut, it could hardly be called a cottage, 
surrounded by a small piece of cultivated land in 
which two Humans were working, a man and a woman. 
But what attracted Jock’s attention was a flock of 
sheep which was penned in an enclosure of wooden 
fences some three hundred yards away. 

“ Now for a scramble ! ” he barked ; “ now I’ll show 
you the way to worry the sheep ! ” 

“ Take care what you do, Jock,” I yelped after him. 
“There are Humans at the cottage.” 

But Jock heard nothing ; he was mad with excite- 
ment. Away he dashed and had almost reached the 
sheep-pen by the time that I veered off towards 
a piece of ground, close to the hut, that commanded 
a better view ; I was filled with a vague sense of 
danger. The man was evidently watching Jock. 
He had put down his spade and seemed to be 
muttering curses to himself as he wiped the sweat 
from his brow. I crept forward stealthily to get within 
earshot, and to have a better view of my friend. Jock 


THE ARRIVAL 


21 


was just reaching the wooden fence, which he cleared 
at a bound. It was as the explosion of a bomb in 
a crowded thoroughfare. Away started the silly, 
frightened animals to right and to left, scrambling 
and tumbling over each other in their vain endeavour 
to escape. Away dashed Jock after them, barking 
his heart out with delight, and together with the 
hysterical bleating of the sheep turning the place into 
a veritable Pandemonium. It was impossible not to 
be amused, and I found myself wagging my tail and 
chuckling at the scene with contemplative satisfac- 
tion. I could not but admire Jock’s skill in his pro- 
fessional work, and I fancied that once or twice he 
turned his head round to see if I was watching him. 
At last, tired of the general havoc he had created, 
he seemed to act with the set purpose of collecting the 
whole flock into one corner of the pen. He accom- 
plished this with marvellous generalship and dexterity. 
It was a sight for the gods ! The outer ranks of the 
bewildered sheep jostled and hustled each other as 
for dear life, whilst those within were so jammed and 
crushed as to clamber on to each other’s backs and 
dash themselves against the wooden fence in their 
frantic endeavours to escape. T he result might have 
been expected — the fencing gave way with a crash, 
and the terrified animals poured pell-mell on to the 


22 


A THOROUGH-BRED MONGREL 


open moor, as waters escaping from a dam. At this 
moment a sibilant sound as of half-muttered Human 
curses attracted my attention to the man and woman 
whose presence I had forgotten. I turned my head 
to watch them. The man was speechless with a 
passion which gave a grey hue to his face, even 
through the bronze of his freckled skin. A thin 
streak of saliva trickled from his mouth as it twitched 
spasmodically to frame the inarticulate curses that 
rose to his lips. I cowered to the ground, and 
watched and trembled. At last, his passion found 
vent. 

“ Curse ’im ! ” he cried, “ curse ’im ! All’ll flog the 
’ide off ’iz back ! By God, all’ll maim ’im ! Fetch me 
th’ ’orse-wheep. Don’ ta yeer, tha slut ? Mak’ haste 
oor mebbe thou’ll taste it o’er tha own shoulders.” 

The woman, a frail, careworn creature, glanced up 
at him for a moment with her large eyes, as if about 
to speak, shuddered a little, and then moved heavily 
and silently into the house. At this moment Jock’s 
joyous bark sounded clearly through the still, evening 
air. As he was approaching the place where we 
stood, he stopped, sniffed suspiciously, and tried to 
cross the surrounding marsh-land to his right. The 
man, maddened by the thought that the dog might 
escape, uttered a volley of oaths and ran into the 


THE ARRIVAL 


23 


hut. In less than a minute he reappeared, a fowling- 
piece in his hand, his wife following him. 

“ Dunnot be a fule, John,” she was saying, “ th’ doog 
belongs to Squere Fielden wot’s.let ’iz house to th’ 
Lunnon folk. Thou’lt be sorry fa’ this.” 

“ Damn Squere Fielden ! ” replied the man, “ th’ 
doog is mad, an’ mad doogs shud be shot — an’ doogs 
as give me a day’s labour for nowt shah bea shot, 
mad or not.” 

He walked within a few paces of the place where I 
was crouching, paralysed with fear. Jock lumbered 
on towards us, finding the bog impassable. He came 
within range. Suddenly my heart gave a great leap 
within me, the choking lump in my throat seemed to 
break, and, head in air, my pent-up emotion spent 
itself in one long, dismal, eerie howl. The man 
started violently, and the fowling-piece fell from his 
grasp. He picked it up, muttering an oath, and 
cocked the hammer with his thumb. The woman 
timidly arrested the movement. 

“ Dunnot, John,” she whispered hoarsely, “ dunnot — 
th’ little ’un ha’ dun nowt.” 

He pushed her roughly away and raised the gun to 
his shoulder. There was a moment’s silence — it can- 
not have been more than a moment — though to me it 
seemed a century. The picture is photographed on 


24 


A THOROUGH-BRED MONGREL 


my brain. The muzzle of the gun covered me, I could 
just catch the glint of the barrel beyond as it flashed 
golden in the rays of the setting sun ; I could see 
the man’s forefinger twitch nervously as he tried to 
steady it on the trigger. Something within warned 
me not to attempt to run away, or to make any 
sudden movement. Something, I know not what, 
forced me to raise myself slowly, almost with 
solemnity, and to beg for my life in the same way as 
I had learned to beg for anything I wanted from a 
Human Being. The memory of how r my master 
first taught me flashed across my mind, and I trembled 
a little. I knew how he would miss me. 

What struck me as strange, as I turned my head 
on one side to look through the plaited locks that 
covered my eyes, and braced up my paws under my 
chin — my custom when sitting up — was that the man 
seemed to be almost imitating my position as he 
stood grasping his weapon in his arms and bending 
his head over it to take a more deliberate aim. Thus, 
face to face, in the same attitude, our eyes met over 
the muzzle of the gun. For a moment I did not 
breathe. My soul seemed to gaze into his. Suddenly 
his face was lightened by some fantastic thought as a 
grey landscape by the sun escaping from a cloud. He 
broke into a roar of laughter and flung the gun upon 


THE ARRIVAL 


25 


the ground. I was safe ! Why or how I did not' 
know, but I felt that I was safe. He laughed and 
laughed again. Why, I could not tell ; any more than 
why the woman was wiping her eyes with her apron. 

I moved slowly away, twisting my body into knots 
with suppressed delight, and wagging my tail furtively 
so as not to appear too sure of my reprieve. 

* * * * * 

An hour or so later Jock and I trotted quietly along 
the carriage-drive that led up to the front of our 
kennel. The evening was quite dark, but the curtains 
were not drawn, and a cheerful light from the dining- 
room seemed to welcome us home. We peeped in 
through the windows. 

The table was laid for dinner and was bright with 
flowers and ferns, and candles with many-tinted 
shades. Glasses and plates were half-full, chairs 
were all awry, the room was empty. What did it 
mean? We hurried to the front door, which was 
open; and silently trotted into the hall. Around the 
centre table, under the rays of the great hanging- 
lamp, the whole company of Humans was assembled, 
the ladies stretching out their hands to touch Some- 
thing on the table in their midst, the men craning 
over their shoulders or standing on chairs to gaze at 
the Something which I could not see. They were all 


26 


A THOROUGH-BRED MONGREL 


in -ecstasies of delight. From the drawing-room 
floated the strains of a weird melody which Mr. 
Singwell was thundering out of the piano as “ The 
National Anthem of Mexico.” I became conscious 
of a strange animal perfume, the truth flashed upon 
me in a moment : the greatest calamity of all had 
befallen us — 

The “ Chihuahua ” had arrived ! 



“Mr. Singwell was thundering out of the piano ‘The National 
Anthem of Mexico.’ ” 


CHAPTER II 

A SUSPICIOUS CHARACTER 

T T was not until he had been placed in triumph 
in the centre of the dining-room table that, by 
jumping on to an adjoining chair, I obtained my 
first good view of the “Chihuahua” dog. Up to 
that moment I had thirsted for his blood, but when 
I first caught sight of the little monstrosity, cocking 
his wee head over the rim of the Mexican cigar-box 
in which he had travelled so many thousands of miles, 
and half-pathetically, half-saucily contemplating the 
company at large, I felt for a moment that strange 
wave of emotion which so often accompanies the 
admiration of pluck. He had clambered up on a 
ball of straw in one corner of the diminutive kennel 
and, with a tiny, stumpy, baby paw resting on each 
side of the cigar-box, gravely eyed the audience as 

an orator preparing to make a speech. Pie looked 

27 


28 


A THOROUGH-BRED MONGREL 


the oddest, wee-est, waywardest, most whimsical little 
doglet in the world. 

“ Silence for the Chihuahua ! ” exclaimed Miss 
Bretford. “ The Chihuahua desires to make a few 
remarks.” 

“ Silence for the Chihuahua ! ” shouted the whole 
company. 

At the repetition of the word “ Chihuahua,” the 
little creature turned his head towards Miss Bretford, 
one eye, which was watery and half-closed with a 
cold, regarding her with a pained and questioning 
expression of surprise ; and the other, clear and 
bright, and twinkling with whimsical humour at 
something which appealed to his sense of the 
ridiculous. 

“ The dog is hurt at your ribald conversation ; he is 
positively crying,” said Miss Bretford, catching the one 
eye. 

“ No,” replied Letitia who v from where she was 
sitting, could only see the other, “ he is labouring 
over an impromptu joke, as Mr. Singwell does over 
night.” 

At this moment the Chihuahua lost his balance 
and, after a vain but heroic attempt to cling on with 
his front paws, collapsed in a heap from one side of 
the box, only to reappear with renewed energy and 


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A SUSPICIOUS CHARACTER 


3i 


determination at the other, and to find himself face 
to face with Dr. Coghlan, whom he regarded with 
signs of the greatest interest and approbation. 

Dr. Coghlan adjusted his glasses and examined the 
Chihuahua as he might a pathological specimen. 

“ I think,” he said gravely, after a pause, “ that the 
animal is suffering from some ophthalmia in one eye. 
The conjunctiva is distinctly congested. I am of 
opinion, too.J’ he continued, addressing his hostess, 
“ that the dog’s restlessness may be caused by the 
sensation of hunger, and that he is at present, after 
his own Mexican lights, asking for food.” 

Mrs. Flufton Bennett laid down her knife and fork 
in mock despair. 

“ Isn’t that like me ? Here am I doing everything 
I can to make our new guest at home, and at the 
same time actually starving him to death ! ” 

Humans have many proverbs on the subject of 
there being “ two sides to a shield ” and “ two sides 
to every case,” but they often forget that there are 
two sides to every dog, the out side and the zVzside, and 
that while the outside is the more interesting to them, 
the inside is far more important to us. 

“ Poor little Petkins ! ” continued Mrs. Bennett, 
breaking a biscuit and holding a piece out to the 
Chihuahua, “ was urns starved ? ” 


32 


A THOROUGH-BRED MONGREL 


The “ Petkins ” may have been starved or not, but 
although he wagged his tail (which he did much after 
the manner of an English dog) in recognition of the 
polite intention and gentle voice of the speaker, he 
evidently did not hold with biscuits. He sniffed at 
it with a faint show of interest, distrustfully took a 
small portion in his mouth, held it despairingly for a 
moment with an obvious sense of duty, attempted to 
chew it, and finally dropped it with an apologetic 
smile. 

“ Poor darling! ” said Mrs. Bennett, in a really dis- 
tressed voice. “ He’s too hungry to be able to eat.” 

This remark was received with derisive cheers. 

“ Try him with this,” said Singwell, cutting a 
delicious tit-bit of duck off his own plate. 

My mouth watered as I watched the dainty morsel 
passed on. Jock growled. But the “Chihuahua” 
would have none of it. It was hot, and I observed 
with delight that it burnt the end of his nose. 

“ This is really serious ! ” exclaimed Mrs. Bennett. 
What is to be done ? ” 

“ He wants one of his native dishes, of course,” 
piped Letitia with asperity. “ Give him some ‘ Tor- 
tiljos.’ ” 

“ Or some curried ‘ Tomalies.’ ” 

“ Or some snails on toast,” said Singwell. 


A SUSPICIOUS CHAP AC TER 


33 

“ I should suggest,” said Dr. Coghlan, seriously, 
seeing his hostess was really distressed, “ that you try 
a little warm bovril.” 

“ Oh, thank you, Dr. Coghlan. How nice it is to 
have a doctor on the premises.” 

Jock and I felt sick with anger as we witnessed this 
ridiculous excitement over an insignificant cur. 

The bovril appeared — a delicious cup of warm 
bovril, which Jock, or preferably I, would have 
lapped up with pleasure. But no, this was not 
good enough for my Lord, the “ Chihuahua” ; he 
took a few tongue-fulls and then turned disappointedly 
away. 

“ It’s too hot,” said Singwell, with an unsympa- 
thetic levity that delighted me, “ cool it with a little 
port wine. It improves the flavour.” So saying, 
amidst general protestations, he filled up the cup 
from a decanter and proffered it to the “ Chihuahua.” 

The result was not expected — not even by the 
Humans — and certainly not by myself. The “ Chi- 
huahua” cocked up his ears for the first time, as 
the steam of the wine-poisoned bovril reached his 
nostrils. He bent his nose over it, took a long sniff 
of delight, lapped it up with avidity, and proceeded 
to lick the cup in the hope of squeezing some more 
out of its sides. 


4 


34 


A THOROUGH-BRED MONGREL 


Mr. Singwell gave a dry cough. 

“ I do not wish, Mrs. Bennett, to cast any aspersions 
upon the character of one of your guests, but I gravely 
fear that into a hitherto innocent and untainted circle, 
you have introduced in the ‘ Chihuahua ’ dog a person 
of intemperate habits.” 

“ Not at all,” interposed Dr. Coghlan. “ The instinct 
of the animal — an animal we know to be possessed of 
unusual intelligence— has overcome its natural distaste 
for alcohol, in recognition of its stimulating influence 
upon the gastric glands.” 

These differences of opinion produced no effect at 
all upon the subject of discussion. The “ Chihuahua ” 
seemed restored to the best of spirits, and greedily 
devoured everything that was offered him, whilst Jock 
and I looked on with jealous eyes. 

“If you will allow me, Mrs. Bennett,” said Singwell 
towards the end of dessert, “ I should like to make a 
practical test of our royal guest’s character, and to 
decide as to the correctness of my opinion as opposed 
to that of my learned and scientific friend on my right. 
I should like to offer the ‘ Chihuahua ’ a glass of 
champagne.” 

After some discussion the test was admitted, on 
Mrs. Bennett’s stipulation that if the puplet exhibited 
alcoholic tendencies he should not be allowed to take 
more than half a glass. 



I congratulate you,’ telepathed Jock to me. 



























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A SUSPICIOUS CHARACTER 


37 


The “ Chihuahua ” sniffed at the wine with apparent 
interest, attempted to lap it, sneezed violently, and 
retired. 

“ I told you so,” said Dr. Coghlan. 

“ Not at all,” replied Singwell, “ it only means that 
sparkling wines are not popular in Mexico.” 

There was not the slightest doubt that Mr. Sing- 
well’s scent and perception were keener than Dr. 
Coghlan’s. I could see no signs of “superior intel- 
ligence ” on the part of the little monstrosity, whilst 
it was perfectly obvious that he was inordinately 
fond of alcohol, which every decent dog loathes and 
despises. My jealousy had already grown into well- 
developed hatred, but it was not only my hatred but 
my perceptions that forced me to regard the Chihua- 
hua as a suspicious character. I had been watching 
him very carefully, and the more I had watched him 
the more I had been driven to the conclusion that he 
was not, as the Humans believed, a fully developed 
dog of three years of age, but a puppy stunted in his 
growth. How young a pup I didn’t know — I had 
never seen a pup like him ; “ but,” thought I to myself, 
“I’ll be muzzled if he doesn’t grow , and every ounce 
he grows in weight he will fall a pound in the Humans’ 
estimation.” My meditations were interrupted by 
cries of delight from the table — 


38 


A THOROUGH-BRED MONGREL 


“We’ll take the whole crowd,” shouted Letitia. 

“ Read it again, Mr. Singwell.” 

“‘The Corn Exchange, Barnham. On Wednesday, 
September ist, will be held the great annual Dog 
Show/” Jock and I pricked up our ears anticipating 
trouble. A special feature of the show will be the 
collection of “Chow-Chows,” “ Schipperkes,” and other 
foreign dogs. Entries will close on August 28th/ 
There ! Mrs. Bennett,” continued Singwell, “ there’s 
a chance for the ‘ Chihuahua.’ ” 

A thrill of delight went through me ; if the Chi- 
huahua was a pretender he would be discovered and 
exposed. My happiness was cut short by my “ Pa ” 
saying — 

“ Hett shall go too ; I’ll wash and comb her every 
day until the Show.” 

“ I congratulate you,” telepathed Jock to me, with 
a sardonic grin. 

“ And I’ll write to Mr. Fielden,” said Mrs. Bennett, 
“and ask his permission to take Jock.” 

“ The same to you, Jock, and many of them,” I 
replied. 

Everybody (but ourselves) agreed it would be tre- 
mendous fun. 

“ I will go and write the letter at once,” continued 
Mrs. Bennett, “and enter the dogs’ names. We will 





The same to you. Jock, and many of them. 





A SUSPICIOUS CHARACTER 


4i 


all drive over in the drag and we must leave here 
punctually at nine, so you lazy ones take warning/’ 

The ladies shifted in their chairs preparatory to 
retiring to the drawing-room. Mr. Singwell rose with 
profound gravity — 

“ Mrs. Flufton Bennett,” he said, “ before concluding 
this most interesting ceremony of welcoming, after a 
dangerous and fatiguing journey, our royal guest (for 
in view of his regal appetite, his alcoholic tendencies, 
and his patronage of such aristocratic diseases as 
ophthalmia, we cannot doubt that he is royal), before 
concluding, I say, the ceremony of welcoming a royal 
guest to these shores, I think it only right, that having 
given him a local habitation, we should proceed, in 
view especially of the approaching Dog Show, to give 
him a name. Our royal friend now sleeps peacefully 
in our midst, I will not say in a state of positive 
inebriation, but at least sufficiently under the influence 
of alcohol as to make me feel that I can speak frankly. 
The first name that suggests itself to me as adapted 
to his royal capacity is that of ‘ Multum in Parvo,’ 
which would be a lasting testimonial to his skill of 
putting much into little. A popular trick with con- 
jurors is that of taking many bulky articles out of a 
small bag which is empty. What is this, compared 
with this little dog’s skill of putting many bulky 


42 


A THOROUGH-BRED MONGREL 


articles into a small bag, which is full? But ‘Multum 
in Parvo’ is not a convenient name, nor is it digni- 
fied. A more fitting one, I think you will agree with 
me, Mrs. Bennett, will be found in a reference to the 
dog’s exalted origin and breed. Chihuahua dog,” 
continued Mr. Singwell, solemnly addressing the 
monstrosity in the cigar-box, and wetting his head 
with a few drops of champagne, “ I christen thee 
‘ His Majesty, King of Chihuahua.’ Ladies and 
gentlemen, I ask you to join me in drinking his 
Majesty’s health. Three cheers for the success of 
the King of Chihuahua ! Ladies and gentlemen, 
musical honours, if you please.” 

***** 

It was the musical honours that finished me. The 
boisterous and discordant strain of“ He’s a jolly good 
fellow ! ” hurt and bewildered me. I slipped from my 
chair and, creeping to my master’s side, laid my head 
caressingly upon his feet. He did not notice me. I 
gently touched his knee with my paw, begging him 
for a word of kindness and recognition. But he was 
standing up, glass in hand, and singing, lost to all else 
but the Chihuahua dog. Then, with a choking feeling 
in my throat, I stole silently from the room, and up 
the stairs, through the long corridor until I reached 
my master’s bed, and curled myself up at its foot. 



I christen thee ‘ His Majesty, King of Chihuahua.’ ” 










































































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I 









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A SUSPICIOUS CHARACTER 


45 


The room was dark and cheerless, and as the swell of 
the distant refrain broke at times through the cold 
silence, it filled me with a burning sense of injustice 
and despair. I could not rest. I twisted and turned 
and twisted, until at last Nature was kind, and my 
heart — seeming to break with the fulness of its sorrow 
— sobbed itself to sleep. 


CHAPTER III 


“WOT IF I AIN’T?” 


HE next morning Jock and I were up betimes. 



A We had both passed miserable nights and felt 
thoroughly wretched, but we each tried to conceal it 
from the other. It is easy enough to cock one’s ears 
and to caper about with a fictitious gaiety, but the 
Tail, the Tell-Tail, as it ought to be called, the Tail 
has a personality of its own (hence the capital T), 
and always gives us dogs away. It is commonly 
accepted by humans that the Tail belongs to the 
Uog, and not the Dog to the Tail. The utter 
indifference to my behests displayed, on certain occa^ 
sions, by my own Tail leads me to suppose that Tails 
originally were independent organisms of a parasitic 
nature and grafted themselves on our forefathers and 
other vertebrata, much as the mistletoe upon the oak. 
As I explained to Jock, if this theory were correct, 
the subsequent evolution of the Tail would vary 


" WOT IF / AIN'T ?" 


47 


inversely with the intelligence of the animal to which 
it was attached. This is exactly what we find. 
Humans, in their mental and physical superiority, 
managed to reduce their parasite Tails to a rudi- 
mentary condition, in fact, to wag them off altogether. 
Perhaps we shall accomplish the same thing in time. 
Other small-brained animals, as the eel and all forms 
of snakes, have proved less resisting hosts, and have 
been swallowed up by their parasitic attaches until 
they are Tail and nothing else. I have been told by 
a farm-dog from “ The Cape ” that among the sheep 
there, the Tails have altogether the best of the 
situation and leisurely recline on little carts which 
they compel the sheep to pull. My opinions on this 
matter are based on observation of my own Tail 
which, although anatomically related to me, is 
characterised by its perfect independence of spirit, 
when its services are enlisted in support of any form 
of fraud. When I feel happy my Tail almost wags 
me off my legs, but when I pretend to be happy, it 
flops about with as much spirit as a wet flag on a still 
day. If I only had my Tail under control I should 
be the most successful and charming liar in the world, 
but when I have to be civil to any one I don’t like, 
however my other members may express themselves, 
the welcome of my Tail is as shallow as the society 


48 


A THOROUGH-BRED MONGREL 


smile of a Human. It is doubtless the diversity of 
the movements of our Tails when engaged in 
conversation that suggested to Humans the idea of 
flag-signalling in the army. Often, when in the Park 
with my “ Pa,” have I watched the red-coats wagging 
their little flags about, but for all their wagging they 
never looked a bit happy, nor, I believe, did they 
understand one half of what their wagging meant. 
Tails are not fashionable with some of us, and it is as 
common for fox terriers to have theirs removed in 
infancy as it is for Human pups to be vaccinated. 
For all that, I’ll wager my last biscuit that a fox 
terrier will express more with the stump of his Tail 
in a minute than a military Human will with his flag 
in an hour. This may be called wagging in Short 
Tail, a process analogous to writing in Short Hand. 
However, I will leave the subject of my Tail and 
return to that of my story. 

Jock and I slouched out into the garden in a fairly 
pitiable plight. 

We were scratched and ragged and torn after 
yesterday’s adventure, and our long coats were still 
plaited in cakes of mud. 

“ Good morning, Hett.” 

“ Good morning, Jock.” 

“ I feel just splendid to-day ; how are you ? ” 


“ WOT IF I AIN'T?" 49 

“ Awfully jolly, Jock,” I replied, “ quite awfully 
jolly.” 

But it was no good, we could only pretend not to 
notice each other’s discomfiture, and direct an unusu- 
ally critical attention to the shrubs and trees around 
to see if they had been guilty of acquiring a new 
aroma during the night. We were both bursting to 



“ Good morning, Hett.” 


speak of our common enemy, but we neither of us 
knew how to begin. We felt as shy as two young 
pups — or even three young pups. 

“What are we to do,” at last broke out Jock, 
“ what are we to do with that infernal Chihuahua 
dog?” 

“Well, Jock,” I replied, “there’s one thing you 

5 


5o 


A THOROUGH-BRED MONGREL 


must not do. You must not wait your chance, give 
him a nip in the back, and toss him into the middle 
of the duck-pond.” 

“ I never thought of that,” said Jock, his tail giving 
the first genuine wag of the morning. 

“ Don't think of it, Jock, don’t consider how easy it 
would be during the course of the day, after lunch 
for instance, when the Humans are occupied with 
their cigarettes, to grip his little back firmly, lift him 
out of his kennel, and drop him in the Winthorpe 
Woods. Don’t think of it, Jock, I implore you — at 
least — not yet.” 

But Jock evidently did think of it, and lolled his 
great red tongue out of his grinning mouth, which 
slobbered with anticipatory delight. 

“ My idea,” I continued, “ is that if we give him 
a little time the ‘Chihuahua’ will drink himself to 
death.” 

“ Not he,” barked Jock contemptuously, “ he’s 
used to it. Do you know old ‘Towser,’ the mongrel 
who keeps ‘ The Green Man’s Arms,’ whose father 
was a cross Between a Dachshound and a French 
Poodle, and whose mother, a Pomeranian, evidently 
a dog with a past, threw back in so comprehensive a 
manner, that ‘Towser’ is an epitome of the worst 
fault of nine distinct breeds ? — well, he’s drunk hard 


WOT IF I AIN'T? 


5i 



for the last eight years, always lapping at the little 
cups that hang under the beer-taps, and he’s no worse 
for it." 

“ Well, Jock, if the Chihuahua doesn’t do for 
himself that way, he may in another. He may 
grow!' 


“ Jock cocked his ears:” 

Jock stopped in the middle of one of his vigorous 
scratchings and cocked his ears. 

“ What do you mean ? ’’ he said. 

“ I mean this, Jock," I continued, putting my nose 
close to his, “ and don’t go blabbing to all the dogs in 
the village, I have a very strong suspicion that he may 
not be a Chihuahua dog at all!' 

“ What ! " roared Jock, with a bark that made my 


52 


A THOROUGH-BRED MONGREL 




ears ring, “ he comes from 


Before the bath. 

Copyrighted June 8 , 1899 . 

you find in the dog-biscuit 
the other day when 
you cut your nose 
on the broken 
tumbler that had 
been packed as a 
specimen.” 

“ Well— I’ll— be 
— muzzled ! ” said 
Jock, deliberately. 

“ I hope not, 

Jock, at least not 
before the Dog 
Show, which, we 
must not forget, 


Chihuahua anyhow, the 
‘ she-cat ’ ” (this 
was Jock’s name 
for Letitia) “trans^ 
lated a Mexican 
label on the box.” 

“ The box comes 
from Chihuahua, 
Jock, there’s no 
doubt about that, 
but it isn’t always 
dog - biscuit that 
box, as you discovered 


In the bath. 
Copyrighted June 8, 1899, 




u Wot if i ain't?" & 


After the bath. 
Copyrighted June 8, 1899. 


takes place 
next week.” 

In truth, we 
had no oppor- 
tunity of for- 
getting. 

It makes my 
tail droop and 
my eyes smart 
even now to 
recall the me- 
mory of those following days. Between the baths, 
most of my day was occupied in cursing the Human 
who invented soap. If Mr. Pear or Mr. Cleaver 
had appeared in 
the grounds they 
would have had 
a bad quarter of 
an hour. I spent 
so much time in 
the wash that I 
wonder I was not 
lost there. But 
my master kept 

such a strict eye Toilet complete, 

on me that it Copyrighted June 8, 1899. 


54 


A THOROUGH-BRED MONGREL 


would have been difficult for me to have got mis- 
laid even in a steam laundry. I saw nothing of 
Jock, for he was going through a course of mal- 
treatment similar to mine under the care of Higgens, 
the coachman, in the stables. But one day I 
managed to slip round to him and found him chained 
to his kennel, and in a great state of excitement. 

“What do you think?” he said. “ Higgens and 
the gardeners have heard from the kitchen about the 
Chihuahua’s habits, and every day Mrs. Bennett’s 
maid brings the little beast out here, and they fill 
him up with lumps of sugar, soaked in gin. He was 
as drunk as a Human here, yesterday afternoon, and 
offered to fight me, staggering up to me and swearing 
in the most awful language and the most awful 
accent I ever heard. Directly he got within reach of 
my chain, Higgens pulled him back by his tail, 
until the Chihuahua positively screamed with fury 
and the Humans with laughter. You never saw such 
a sight in your life.” 

I was glad to hear about the sugar — sugar would 
make the Chihuahua fat. But, on the other hand, 
I had heard that gin given to the pups of any kind 
of animals, Canine, Human, or otherwise, kept them 
small. It seemed to me very probable that it was 
in this way the Chihuahua dog had become the 













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He offered to fight me. 


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WOT IF 1 AIN'T ?" 


57 


dipsomaniac he undoubtedly was. Being so tiny at 
birth as to be remarkable, he may have been plied 
with alcohol by some Human anxious to preserve his 
peculiarity, and have thus got used to its detestable 
taste and smell even before he opened his eyes. The 
whole thing was a mystery. Here was a letter from 
Pa’s hostess’ friend, Mr. Anthony, promising to send 
a Chihuahua dog under the personal care of his 
brother. Here was a Mexican cigar-box, which had 
undoubtedly come from Chihuahua, and here was a 
drunken little dog inside. It seemed madness to 
question his identity, and yet, picturing him to 
myself, as I had seen him the night before, it was 
impossible for me to believe that he was full grown, 
that he had a drop of good blood in his veins (or in 
his arteries for that matter), that he was derived from 
any respectable stock, either British or foreign ; 
in fact, that he was anything but a shrivelled, ill- 
developed, stunted mongrel. A mongrel pup. A 
thoroug/h-bre'd mongrel: A pup of three or four 
months at the most. I couldn’t tell which. He was 
such a freak of nature in himself, and had so lowered 
his caninity that it was impossible to judge of him by 
any ordinary rules. Suddenly Jock, reading my 
thought, interrupted me. 

“ Oh ! he’s a Chihuahua all right enough. He 


58 


A THOROUGH-BRED MONGREL 


spoke with a foreign accent. And I never heard 
such oaths. They must have been Mexican.” 

But I hadn’t much respect for Jock’s knowledge of 
foreign accents. All accents were foreign to Jock, 
except Scotch. The thing I wanted to do was to 
have a good talk with the Pretender and to judge 
for myself. But it seemed as if I should never get 
the opportunity. Royalty itself could not have 
received more attention than we got from the 
Humans in these days of preparation for the Show. 
Of course, with the exception of the baths, it was all 
very flattering and right and proper. But after a 
while it became extremely boring. My feelings were 
a mixture of those of a prize dog of princely value 
being trained for a special ceremony, and of a cur, 
who was being watched for signs of latent hydro- 
phobia. Or as Humans might put it, I hardly knew 
if I were a royal personag^travelling in state, or a 
ticket-of-leave man under police surveillance. How- 
ever, the day before the Show arrived at last. I 
underwent my last bath and my last combing, and 
with a sore skin and a sensation of being painfully 
and unpleasantly clean, with a blue ribbon round my 
neck, I presented myself on the lawn for parade, to 
be admired by the Humans. Jock and the Chihuahua 
were there too. Jock looked splendid, with his 






On parade. 
























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WOT IF I AIN’T ? 


61 


beautiful long glossy coat, all freshly combed and 
brushed. Until then I had had no idea he was such a 
fine fellow. As for the beastly little Chihuahua, he 
was squatting, clean and perky and as impudent as 
ever, in a Japanese basket, lined with yellow satin, 
and staring at everybody as if he were the monarch 
of the universe. Round his neck was a pink ribbon 
with a silver bell, which at intervals he made furious 
but futile endeavours to remove. As usual, he looked 
thoroughly intoxicated ; in fact, as I learned from 
Jock afterwards, he had just been round to Higgens 
for his customary afternoon debauch. We sat there 
in the sun, the Humans smoking their cigarettes, and 
admiring us in a becoming manner. Now at last 
occurred the opportunity I had been looking for. 
A servant came on to the lawn and gave Mrs. 
Bennett a letter. 

“ Oh, that’s delightful,” she said, after reading it. 
“ The new cob has arrived ; let’s all go and interview 
him. Here, Vivian, just chain Jock up to that seat so 
that he cannot eat ‘ His Majesty’.” 

I peeped out from the centre of the fluffy ball of 
wool, into which the repeated washings had trans- 
formed me, and observing an expression of doubt 
on my master’s face, pretended to be asleep. He 
hesitated a moment, and then followed the other 


62 


A THOROUGH-BRED MONGREL 


Humans, who were already disappearing round the 
corner of the house. 

The Chihuahua was snoring loudly in a drunken 
sleep. There was no time to be lost. Resting , one 
paw on the edge of the basket, I stiffened the other 
and brought it down with a good swinging side-stroke 
just on ‘His Majesty’s ’ ear. He rolled over twice 
and then staggered on to his feet, but he was too 
drunk to manage his hind-legs, which collapsed in a 
heap under him, and supporting himself with diffi- 
culty on his front paws he looked up at my face with 
an expression of bewilderment and rage. 

“ Washwant ? ” he, yapped. 

I looked at him interrogatively. 

“ Washwant ? ” he repeated, in a shriller tone. 

This sounded like Spanish. Jock was right, the 
dog was a Chihuahua after all. 

“Washwant?” he yelled for the third time, and 
observing that I still sniffed at him with a silent and 
contemplative curiosity, he staggered to the side of 
his basket. 

“ Sheems to me,” he said, “ ’t don’t hunderstand wot 
I’m shaying. I shay, Washyouwant ? ” 

At this, outburst of drunken cockneyism any doubt 
as to the animal’s origin vanished like a mouse 
down a hole. 





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WOT IF I AIN'T?" 


65 


He was evidently a mongrel pup who had lived 
with the lowest of the low. I looked pityingly and 
condescendingly at Jock. He had made such a silly 
mistake with his talk of foreign accents and Mexican 
oaths, and — besides (my tail, thank goodness it had 
some sense of humour left, couldn’t help wagging as 
I looked at him) — besides Jock was tied up. He 
couldn’t interfere. I was the leading dog on this 
occasion. 

“ What do I want,” I said, bending over the mongrel 
and showing my teeth ; “ well, I want to tell you 
what I think of you. You’re a drunken little brute, 
you’re a disgrace to caninity, you’re a freak of nature 
— I don’t believe you are a Chihuahua dog at all.” 

“ Wot if I ain’t ? ” screamed the little beast, actually 
sobering in his paroxysm of rage. “Wot if I ain’t? 
Oo are you, I’d like to ’now, and your lumping sheep- 
dawg friend there? We ’ad ’eaps. o’ dawgs like you 
w’ere I cum from. ’Eaps on ’em. An’ d’you ’now 
w’ere that ish ? Seven Dials, London. Menzies 
Bros., dealers in Live Stock, Seven Dials, London. 
Menzies ses ’e never saw a dawg like me, not in his 
’ole bloomin’ life. They drowned my sheven brothers 
becoz they was gals an’ becoz Menzies ses they was a 
reflecshen on their mother’s past. But ’e ses ’e’d keep 
I’d be a warnin’ to my mother in the future, 
6 


me, coz 


66 


A THOROUGH-BRED MONGREL 


and ’coz bein’ as ’ow I was an eccentric, ’e might be 
able to sell me if ’e could only keep me small. ’E ses 
as ’ow I was a bloomin’ museum of himperfections and 
yet ’adjsich a way with me that I might carry ’em all 
hoff. An’ ’e ’nowed a dawg wen ’e seed ’im, ’e did. 
’E’d ’ave soon summed you up, you blamed Skye 
Terrier. ’E’d ’ave given a bob for yer and ’ave sold yer 
for a ‘ thick ’un,’ and ’e wouldn’t ’ave given a tanner 
for your sheep friend, ’coz ’e ain’t got no manners.” 

The mongrel ‘stopped for breath. Jock, wild with 
rage, was barking furiously. Again and again, with 
savage leaps and bounds, he dashed himself forward 
towards us, almost strangling himself in his collar and 
gradually dragging after him the garden-seat to which 
he was attached, until his hot breath reached the cur 
that so infuriated him. I saw the Humans turn the 
corner of the house and run towards us. The mongrel 
noticed nothing, but foaming at the mouth in his 
pigmy rage, he made frantic endeavours to climb 
over the side of his basket in the direction of Jock. 

“Cum on, yer scurvy Scotch thief!” he yapped. 
“ Cum on, yer bloomin’ coward and kill me if yer like. 
That won’t prove yer a better dawg than I am. Wy, 

I wouldn’t fight with yer ’till yer got your ’air cut.” 

The next moment would have been “ The Pre- 
tender’s ” last, had not he and his basket been 


WOT IF I AIN'T? 


67 


suddenly snatched up by the Humans, and Jock sent 
flying with a kick. 

“ Yah ! yer Scotch thief ! ” still yelled the mongrel, 
“yer didn’t get me that time. Wait till to-morrow, 
yer clumsy sheep-catcher, and I’ll show yer which is 
the better dawg of the two.” 

And finding they could not pacify him, the Humans 
carried him, still screaming, into the house. 


/ 


CHAPTER IV 


THE BARN HAM DOG SHOW 
LTHOUGH I have the antipathy to disclosing 



my real age which is common to all my sex, I 
am willing to confess that my girlhood is a thing of 
the past, and I cannot disguise from myself the fact 
that when accosted by a strange dog in the street, my 
deprecatory wriggle has lost much of its maiden 
charm. How long ago it is since I first became a 
mother I am unable to state with any exactness, but 
certainly long enough for me to be now not only a 
grandmother and a great-grandmother, but a grand- 
mother qualified by an unlimited number of “ greats.” 
“ Some are born great,” the Humans say (but how 
one can be born a great-grandmother I never could 
understand), “ and some have greatness thrust upon 
them.” I can truthfully place myself in the latter 
category, never having experienced the slightest 
desire to be a mother, and never having taken the 


68 


THE BARNHAM DOG SHOW 69 

faintest interest in my respective families beyond a 
passing sense of injured surprise at the appearance 
of the first. It is both annoying and embarrassing, 
having curled up in one’s basket for the night, to 
awaken in the morning and find some six or seven other 
dogs to whom one has not even been introduced, 
perfectly blind to everything but their own comfort, and 
treating one with marked familiarity. When this sort 
of thing occurs on three or four occasions it tends 
to make a dog nervous about going to sleep at all, and 
to induce a feeling which an underbred Human would 
describe as “ ’e dunno where ’e are.” The first time it 
happened to me I had grave suspicions that the basket 
had something to do with it : that having been used 
perhaps as a bran pie, it had acquired the habit, as it 
were, of producing odd things at odd moments ; but 
these suspicions were not confirmed by subsequent 
experience. In one respect I have been fortunate as a 
mother, namely, that most of my families disappeared 
as suddenly and mysteriously as they came. The 
reader will pardon this digression in consideration of 
a mother’s feelings. All I really wanted to say was 
that I am too advanced in years and too much of a 
matron to take any interest in Shows. Besides, I had 
been through it all before — not once but dozens of 
times. I had won prizes at the Aquarium and the 


7o 


A THOROUGH-BRED MONGREL 


Crystal Palace, and to be exhibited at a Country 
Show in company with a crowd of “Foreign Dogs” 
was little short of humiliating. Such was our relief 
however, in being liberated from the hampers in 
which we had respectively been confined (a 
precautionary measure for the protection of the 
Chihuahua) that Jock and I immediately proceeded 
to swell the babel of sounds that was turning the Corn 
Exchange into a veritable Pandemonium. If noise 
and numbers constituted success, the “ Great Barnham 
Annual Dog Show ” might have been the greatest on 
record. Such a tumult of polyglot baying and 
snarling and howling and yelping, that the blood 
began to tingle in my veins with excitement, and in 
a few minutes I had barked myself hoarse. 

The confusion is the only excuse I can make for 
my master managing to get on one side of a post 
whilst I was trotting energetically along on the other. 
This I very properly resented. Of course I was 
willing to make allowance for him in his excited 
condition, but to neglect seeing which side I was 
walking and then to try and credit me with the error 
was going a bit too far. Besides, I had strictly 
followed the Humans’ rule of the road (which is 
posted up in all country towns where there is no 
traffic, but which is never seen or obeyed in the 



V if?. 




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Voila two ! ’ as I once heard a French poodle remark ; ‘ see the pair of us. 






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THE BARNHAM DOG SHOW 73 

crowded thoroughfares of London), “ Keep to the 
right.” I never quite know how one is to tell which 
is the right, but I always keep there. I suppose one 
does it intuitively. If a thing wasn’t right one would 
never keep to it. When I reached the post I chose 
what was obviously the right side, and my Pa foolishly 
chose the wrong one. “ Voila two,” as I once heard 
a French poodle remark — see the pair of us. 

“ What ' number, sir?” said an official to my Pa, 
when I had finally extricated him from his dilemma. 

“'Skye, 8 1,” gasped my Pa, looking at his ticket. 

“Only twenty Skyes in the Show, sir,” said the 
attendant. 

“ Oh, I beg your pardon ; I was holding it upside 
down. I mean 18.” 

Stall No. 1 8 proved to be in an excellent position, at 
the central end of one of the many rows of kennels 
that converged on the judging ring. Next to me was 
a ladylike Skye (gentleman-like, I should have said, 
as I discovered afterwards) of a somewhat melancholy 
aspect. 

“ Rather noisy here this morning,” I remarked, 
wishing to place myself on a friendly pawing. 

“ Oh, I’m used to it,” was the reply. “ I come here 
every year. There will be a discussion about me 
presently, as to whether I should have the second 


74 A THOROUGH-BRED MONGREL 

prize ; there always is. Finally, I shall be very 
specially commended. I always am.” 

“ I can’t think why we have these Shows at all.” 

“ Oh, it amuses the Humans. I would put up with 
a good deal to give them a little happiness. They are 
such dear creatures.” 

“ Oh, they’re all right,” I replied ; “ they mean 
well, but I don’t believe they know a nice dog when 
they see him. One would think, from the assurance 
of these so-called judges that they had received a 
special inventory of a dog’s ‘ points ’ from above, or 
had personally attended at the Creation.” 

“ May I stroke your head, you darling little thing ? ” 
a friendly female Human stopped and said. 

“ Certainly, certainly, ma’am,” I wagged, “ stroke 
anything you like,” and I turned on my back and 
offered her my tummer. Humans always want to 
rub some part of a dog’s anatomy, and, speaking for 
myself, the operation affords more satisfaction to the 
stomach than to the head. I am quite asinine in my 
dislike to having my ears pulled, whilst I think a 
little gentle massage to the abdomen aids the diges- 
tion. 

On a Show day, if one is an attractive person, one 
is necessarily exposed to such an amount of patting 
and rubbing and stroking that if it were not for vary- 


THE BARNHAM DOG SHOW 


75 


ing the surface presented for this attention, one’s coat 
would get a hole worn in it. 

So I offered her my tummer, but I did not offer it 
for long. Familiar voices in the crowd indicated that 
some of the people Jock and I had brought with us 
were struggling to approach. I was on my legs at 
once, and conveyed to my friendly female Human in 
as polite a manner as possible, that I had other 
business to attend to and that she had better “ pass 
along.” 

“ Let’s have a look at the Skyes, Dr. Coghlan,” I 
heard pretty little Miss Seaton say, “ those Basset 
Hounds have nearly made me deaf.” 

“ Resonant voices, haven’t they ? ” drawled Dr. 
Coghlan. “ We shall be quieter here.” 

“ Looking for quiet places ” was a favourite occupa- 
tion of Dr. Coghlan’s and Miss Seaton’s. I had not 
wandered through the Winthorpe Woods every after- 
noon with them without learning their tastes and 
habits. Two and three hours would they sit together 
in a “ quiet place,” whilst I went off rabbiting. And 
here they were in a crowded Pandemonium of a Dog 
Show still looking for their “quiet place.” Humans 
are pathetic animals ! 

“ Oh, hang it ! ” suddenly snapped Dr. Coghlan, 
“ that’s my toe.” 


76 


A THOROUGH-BRED MONGREL 


“ I beg your pardon, sir, I beg your pardon!' 

“Hullo, Higgens, is that you? Just the man I 
wanted to see — but not to- — not to feel. Bless my 
soul, Higgens, you must weigh twelve stone.” 

“Very sorry, I’m sure, sir; I was pushed.” 

“ All right, Higgens,” continued Dr. Coghlan, 
fixing his eyeglass and resuming his natural drawl. 
“ I wanted to ask you a question — How’s our small 
friend ? ” 

“ The ‘ Shwawa’, sir? Oh, he’s all right, sir.” 

“ Going to win a prize, Higgens ? ” 

“ Well, sir, it’s like this, sir,” said Higgens, 
approaching the doctor and becoming confidential, 
“ ’e’s a real rummun, that dawg is. I suppose it’s 
because he’s a ‘ Shwawa,’ and a thoroughbred 
Shwawa ; not that I know anything about Shwawas, 
but what I do say is this, sir — no country would turn 
out a dawg like that and send him as a specimen 
unless he was thoroughbred. They daren’t do it, sir.” 

“ He’s a wonderful’dog, Higgens ” 

“ He’s a marvellous dawg, sir — but this is the point, 
sir. The dawg’s entered as being three years old, but 
he ain’t, sir.” And here Higgens’ voice sank to a 
mysterious whisper. “ He ain’t two year old, nor yet 
a year, sir ; ’e’s only just getting his second teeth, 


sir. 


THE BARNHAM DOG SHOW 77 

“ You at once interest and amaze me,” said 
Dr. Coghlan, regarding Higgens with the utmost 
gravity. 

“ That’s the word, sir, and thank you for it. It’s 
amazin’, sir, just amazin’.” 

“ What will happen, Higgens ? ” 

“ Well, it’s like this, sir — if they go into his teeth 
thoroughly, sir, as I have, they’re sure to disqualify 
him as being wrongly entered, and I wouldn’t have 
that happen for worlds, sir. The missis — Mrs. 
Bennett I mean, sir, begging your pardon — is real 
keen on gettin’ a prize for that dawg, and I hope she 
may, sir — for I am bound to confess,” continued 
Higgens, wiping his brow and becoming hot at the 
consciousness of his rhetorical effort, “ I am bound to 
confess, sir, that you and Mrs. Bennett have always 
treated me as perfect gentlemen.” 

Dr. Coghlan did not reply, but there was a twinkle 
in his eye. 

“Excuse me, sir,” continued Higgens, “but I am 
rather nervous about this dawg. Mr. Johnson is the 
judge, sir — I know him well — and I don’t think he is 
much acquainted with foreign dogs — and, worst of all, 
sir, Mr. Johnson has come this morning in an un- 
usually sober condition. When he’s sober he’s shaky 
and when he’s shaky he’s irritable, and when he’s 


78 A THOROUGH-BRED MONGREL 

irritable — well, sir, then it’s bad for the dawg he 
knows nothing of.” 

Dr. Coghlan seemed to prick up his ears at this. 
He took Higgens on one side. I could not quite 
catch what passed. I thought I heard the word 
“ champagne,” a drink which I believe is popular 
with Humans. He took something from his pocket 
and placed it in the hand of Higgens, who touched 
his hat and moved away. 

“ I’m glad that horrid man has gone,” said Miss 
Seaton, as Higgens began edging his way through 
the crowd towards the judge’s stand. This was by 
no means the first time I had heard her snarl at 
Higgens ; “ Horrid man,” she used to mutter to her- 
self when, as sometimes happened in the evening, 
Dr. Coghlan announced his intention of having a 
smoke with Higgens in the stable. On one of these 
occasions, as I was following Dr. Coghlan to the door, 
feeling more inclined to hunt rats than to enjoy the 
tender warmth of even Miss Seaton’s lap (a lap, by 
the way, so luxurious and well-upholstered that it 
would have been an ornament to any dog’s kennel) ; 
on one of these occasions she called me back and 
quite surprised me by hugging me violently in her 
arms and bursting into tears : “ To leave me to go to 
Higgens,” she whimpered. “You wouldn’t, you little 


THE BARNHAM DOG SHOW 79 

darling, would you ? ” Of course I kissed her 
violently as an indication that not the finest rat in 
the world was as attractive as she was. “ Higgens is 
a brute,” she continued, “ a perfect brute.” I felt it 
was disloyal to Higgens, who was quite a docile and 
well-intentioned creature, but I wagged affirmatively. 
It is useless to argue with a female Human. One 
might as well try to worry an elephant or to grapple 
with an eel. “ If he means anything, why doesn’t he 
speak ! ” continued Miss Seaton, through Tier tears. 
I was not quite sure whether she referred to Higgens 
or Dr. Coghlan ; but in either case the remark was 
superfluous. Humans are always speaking. I sup- 
pose they have no other method of communicating 
their emotions. They have no tails to wag, and they 
don’t know — the majority of them — how to talk with 
their eyes. If they have nothing else to say they 
make obvious and generally deprecatory remarks 
about the weather. It is the one thing they can 
abuse without fearing an action for libel. The sole 
condition of affairs they seem to dread (which makes 
us dogs so companionable) is the relapsing into a 
sensible silence. I had always taken a great interest 
in Miss Seaton and Dr. Coghlan, and had honoured 
them with a good deal of my society. I confess I 
didn’t quite understand them. They had a way of 


8o 


A THOROUGH-BRED MONGREL 


looking into each other’s eyes that was • almost canine 
in its intelligence. They not infrequently snapped at 
each other when together, but if they had possessed 
tails I am quite certain they would have carried 
them in a very drooping manner whenever they were 
apart. I think this must have been what Dr. Coghlan 
meant when he remarked to her, “ My dear, if we 
were always at a distance from each other we should 
become positively inseparable.” I had heard Higgens 
speak of them in the stables. “ Them two ought to 
run in double harness,” Higgens once remarked. 
“ They’re running tandem at present,” the under 
coachman replied. “ The doctor is the leader, but 
the filly will be at his heels, however quick he 
goes.” 

On this abominable day of the Dog Show, there 
appeared to be some truth in the remark. Miss 
Seaton had followed Dr. Coghlan as faithfully as 
one of those dreadful spotted dogs follows the hind 
wheels of a coach. The doctor, I confess, seemed to 
like it. 

“ My dear friend,” he replied to Miss Seaton’s 
restriction on Higgens, “ believe me, you are wrong ; 
there is nothing ‘horrid’ about Higgens. He is the 
most ingenuous and most honest person in the 
world.” 


THE BARNHAM DOG SHOW 


8 1 


“ Ingenuous ! Honest ! ” laughed Miss Seaton. 
“Why, they tell me the man has actually served 
time ! ” 

“It is true,” continued the doctor in his gravest 
and most convincing manner, “ that Higgens was 
during a brief period of his early career confined 
within the walls of one of her Majesty’s prisons. 
This was doubtless an injustice. Higgens, in fact, 
assures me it was so. He confesses he committed a 
little ‘ indiscretion,’ and that he returned the — the 
money directly — well, directly requested to do so. 
He appears to me to have pursued a very honourable 
course in the matter. After all, what is an ‘ indiscre- 
tion’? — merely an error of judgment. What is an 
error of judgment compared to the deliberate cruelties 
and petty larcenies daily committed amongst the 
opulent and educated ? ” 

“ My dear Dr. Coghlan, what do you mean ? ” 

“ I mean that it would be the very making of most 
of you young ladies if you had to ‘ serve time ’ like 
Higgens had. I respectfully and regretfully include 
my esteemed friend and hostess, Mrs. Bennett. I 
would give you all seven days, I would give Miss 
Fretcher a month — my visit here is over in three 
weeks,” added Dr. Coghlan, sotto voce. 

“ But what for?” gasped Miss Seaton, momentarily 

7 


82 


A THOROUGH-BRED MONGREL 


ceasing her perfunctory caresses of myself and turn- 
ing her round eyes up at the doctor. 

“ For unpunctuality, madam — wanton, persistent, 
cold-blooded unpunctuality : the vice which is so 
particularly feminine and which has sapped the 
happiness of so many domestic circles. Do you 
realise what unpunctuality involves? It involves 
cruelty and theft. You and your friends daily keep 
eight starving men waiting for their dinner for any 
time up to half an hour. This is cruelty to the 
noblest sex of the noblest race of animals.” 

“Always excepting dogs,” snapped Miss Seaton 
pointedly, and emphasising her remark with a caress- 
ing stroke of my head. 

“ Eight men and four domestics kept waiting for 
half an hour amounts to stealing six hours a day out 
of the lives of others. And yet you reflect on 
Higgens for having ‘ served time.’ I regard Higgens 
as a noble example. He has erred, he has suffered, 
he has repented. Think of it ! Higgens knows that 
he is never wanted for half an hour after the time for 
which he is called, but he is there to the moment — 
sunshine or rain. Talk of valour in the field — the 
hysterical expression of an emotional moment — it 
is such a man as Higgens who deserves the Victoria 
Cross. You speak with scorn of ‘ serving time,’ Tcf 


THE BARNHAM DOG SHOW 


83 


my mind a month’s hard labour ought to be part of 
every lady’s and gentleman’s education. These are 
the people who make a nation’s greatness. Gad,” 
continued the doctor, waxing warm with his own 
hyperbole, “Gad! if I were a rich man and had 
nothing else to do, I would wait outside* the prisons’ 
gates and watch for them as they came out. I would 
train them, I would educate them, I would make 
gods of them.” 

The little laughing dimples chased each other 
around Miss Seaton’s pretty mouth, and the light 
flashed mischievously from her eyes. 

“ What are you thinking about ? ” asked the doctor, 
partly in answer to the silence and partly in answer 
to her expression. 

“ I was thinking,” Miss Seaton said, pointing 
her saucy little chin in the air, “ of the remark 
made by the dummy head at the Ventriloquial 
Show.” 

“ Well, what was that, and how does it bear on the 
subject of prisons ? ” 

“ Oh, I had forgotten all about your new training 
school for the manufacture of ‘ gods,’ ” laughed Miss 
Seaton. “ The remark referred to you.” 

“ Well, what was it ? ” 

Miss Seaton looked up in the doctor’s face and 


8 4 


A THOROUGH-BRED MONGREL 


repeated demurely, but with emphasis, “ ‘ Oh, Captain 
Cole ! what a funny man you are ! ’ ” 

“ But, my dear Miss Seaton, I assure you I was 
never more serious in my life. I feel deeply about 
these matters. Don’t you see that the splendid 
restrictions of prison life with its enforced labour, 
its regular habits, its compulsory asceticism, may 
be the very saving of a man’s soul ? ” 

“ And don’t you see,” retorted Miss Seaton, “ that 
you are only funny because you are so serious ? — 
because, as Mrs. Bennett puts it, because you ‘ exist 
massively.’ ” 

“ Perhaps I had better seek the society of some one 
who will find me less funny and less massive,” snarled 
the doctor, almost savagely. The asperity of his 
growl made me growl too. 

“You’re quite right, Hett,” said Miss Seaton, “he’s 
a rude man to speak in that tone of voice. You silly 
boy,” she continued, slyly transferring her caresses 
from my head to the hand of the doctor, who, not 
much to my edification or enjoyment, was absently 
plucking the hairs from my skin. “You silly boy, it 
is perhaps because you are so funny that 1 am so — 


Subsequent events have led me to suppose that 
Miss Seaton may have been going to add “ so fond of 


THE BARN HAM DOG SHOW 


85 


you ; ” but the sudden reappearance of the original 
cause of her annoyance will make this ever remain a 
matter of conjecture. 

At the sight of Higgens’ flushed and perspiring 
physiognomy she pouted visibly and turned her 
back. 

“ It’s all right, sir ! ” exclaimed Higgens to the 
doctor in an excited whisper. “ I’ve done it, sir, 
I’ve done it; ’e took the bait- I mean the cham- 
pagne — like a samming, sir, and then I tickled his 
stomach — I mean his vanity — and that fairly fixed 
him. He lay in my arms and cooed like a sucking 
babe. Nothin’ like reachin’ a man through ’is vanity, 
sir. Ses I to ’im, ‘Mr. Johnson,’ says I, ‘pardon my 
mentionin’ it,’ says I, ‘ but an acquaintance of mine 
in the crowd has just said to me that he thought you 
didn’t know as much about daWgs as a judge oughter.’ 
‘Not know about dawgs ! ’ roars out old Johnson, ‘not 
know about dawgs ! Why, I’ve been a judge of 
dawgs for twenty years. Every one knows my book 
on “Our Dawgs and how to Treat Them.”’ ‘Of 
course they do,’ says I, making him lap up his cham- 
pagne and pouring out another glass, ‘ but my friend 
didn’t refer to English but foring dawgs.’ ‘ Why ! ’ 
shouts Johnson to this, ‘ I tell you, Higgens, I’ve seen 
more than any ten men in this county.’ ‘ Of course 


86 


A THOROUGH-BRED MONGREL 


you ’ave, sir, of course you ’ave,’ ses I, ‘ and so I told 
my friend. “There ain’t a dawg in the world,” ses I, 
“ as Mr. Johnson doesn’t know the points of.” “ Well,” 
says my friend, “ there’s one in the Show to-day that 
will flummux him.” “ And what may that be ? ” ses I. 
‘Well,” ses ’e, “it’s a cur’ous sort of dawg to the 
English eye ; it’s a Mexican dawg. I lived in 
Mexico myself for twenty years, and I never saw 
a more perfect specimen.” “ And what’s the breed 
called ? ” ses I. “ The Chiwawa,” ses ’e. “ The what ? ” 
ses I. “ The Chiwawa,” ses ’e, and ’e spells it to me. 

‘ C-h-i-w-a-w-a.’ You see, sir,” continued Higgens 
breaking off in his story and addressing himself to 
Dr. Coghlan, “I could tell from Johnson’s face that 
he had never met such a dawg before, so I wanted to 
make him thoroughly familiar with its name and 
points.” 

“ The intention was excellent, Higgens, though the 
spelling was, I believe, a trifle incorrect. Please 
finish your story, which interests me.” 

“Well, sir, there ain’t much more to tell. I made 
my imaginary friend run over all the points of a 
Chiwawa, and I think I described ‘His Majesty’ 
over there pretty accurate. Law ! I could see old 
Johnson trying to fix it in his mind all the time. 
‘ Now, Mr. Johnson,’ I concludes by saying, ‘ my 


THE BARNHAM DOG SHOW 


87 


friend told me this dawg was the finest specimen 
of a Chiwawa ’e ’ad ever seen, and ’e ses, ses ’e, 
“Old Johnson will know nothing at all about it and 
probably only give the dawg a second prize.” ‘ Now, 
Mr. Johnson,’ ses I, ‘this made me so mad that I ses 
to my friend, “ That just shows what a fool you are, 
for now I come to think of it, I remember Mr. 
Johnson keeps a Chiwawa dawg hisself.” And that s 
my only excuse, sir, for speaking to you about any 
dawg in the show, which ain’t a correct thing to do. 
I wanted to know if you owned a Chiwawa or not.’ 

No, no ! ’ ses ’e.’ (Lor, Dr. Coghlan, what a lump 
of fat and vanity that man is !) ‘ No, no,’ ses ’e, in 

quite a hairy manner, ‘ I don’t keep a Chiwawa, 
Higgens, but I know the breed well, and your 
friend’s description seems to me fairly accurate.’ 
I could hardly keep the smile off my face. ‘ Mr. 
Johnson,’ ses I, ‘pardon my saying it, but you’re a 
wonderful man, sir ; to think that you should be 
acquainted with the points of all the dawgs in the 
bloomin’ universe, just as if you had made them 
yourself.’ ‘ Well, Higgens,’ ses ’e, ‘experience teaches 
a man everything — and I confess I have a natural 
hintuition on these subjects.’” Higgens wiped his 
brow and turned an interrogative glance upon the 
doctor, as if doubtful of the impression he had 
created. 


88 


THOROUGH-BRED MONGREL 


“ My dear Higgens,” said Dr. Coghlan, “ both you 
and I would be quite incapable of practising a fraud 
upon any one ” (Higgens shifted his feet uneasily) “ or 
of trying to influence the opinion of any person 
occupying the sacred position of a judge. But it 
seems to me that the administration of champagne 
in this instance only restored Mr. Johnson, who, you 
tell me, was a bit shaky on his arrival, to his normal 
condition ; that is to say, to a condition in which he is 
most qualified to accurately express his opinion as a 
judge. You have also supplied him with the neces- 
sary evidence in regard to the defendant — I should 
say the plaintiff. The dog, as we all know, comes 
from Mexico ; I am not familiar with Mexico ; I 
believe it does not rank amongst the Great Powers, 
but, as you say, no country in the world is great 
enough or insignificant enough to grant a passport 
to a dog like that and a permit to cross the ocean 
unless it was the representative of a rare and particu- 
lar breed. You have wandered, I fear, from the 
narrow path of truth in describing a hypothetical 
friend, but you have done it in a good cause. There 
are so many damnatory verdicts pronounced in this 
world, especially in the field of morals and art, 
merely through the ignorance of the judges. More 
than one man has been hanged on this account, and 


( 



But sharp with her teeth. 








V 




























/ 








. 





■ • 


THE BARN HAM DOG SHOW 


9i 


more than one dog has lost a prize.” I wagged a 
“ Hear ! hear ! ” but Dr. Coghlan did not notice it 
“ Higgens,” he said, passing over a crisp but insignifi- 
cant piece of paper which I could have worried in a 
few seconds, “here is a trifle for your expenses. If 
the Chihuahua gets a first prize, I will make it ten.” 

“ Thank’ee, sir, thank’ee — as I said before, you and 
Mrs. Bennett have always behaved as perfect gentle- 
men.” 

“ That’s very good of you. Come, Miss Seaton,” 
continued the doctor, “let us join the others; the 
judging is just going to begin.” 

I composed myself to sleep, but had hardly closed 
my eyes when I felt a severe pain in my ribs. I 
looked up to find myself being contemplated by a 
couple of the mangiest human mongrels, blue-skinned, 
greasy-coated, and collarless, it had been my mis- 
fortune to meet. 

“ Get up, kiddy, and show yourself,” said one, 
driving his stick right under me and forcing me 
on my legs. “Eugh!. I thought so — too long in 
the legs.” 

“Too short in the body,” added the other, poking 
me in the back with his finger. 

“ But sharp with her teeth,” I replied, and gave him 
, a nip of which I hope he bears the marks to-day. 


92 


A THOROUGH-BRED MONGREL 


He was too frightened to growl. “ Menzies would 
shoot that dawg,” he said quietly, and then both 
passed on. I have the sweetest temper imaginable, 
but there are things I do not permit. Truly the 
Human, when he is a mongrel, is the worst mongrel 
in the world. This incident disturbed my dreams. I 
thought I was being drowned by my own master in 
the sea ; he was holding my head under the waves 
whilst I struggled frantically to escape the ever- 
increasing sense of horror — I was losing consciousness 
— there was a dull humming in my ears — when 
suddenly I awoke to find myself safe and sound in 
the Barnham Dog Show. 

The sea around me was a sea of Humans, strug- 
gling towards the judge’s stand ; the humming was 
the babel of human voices. Suddenly there was a 
general cry of ‘ Hush ! ’ and out of the silence 1 could 
hear Dr. Coghlan’s voice declaim : “ Ladies and 

Gentlemen, Mrs. Bennett’s' Chihuahua dog, ‘ His 
Majesty,’ has obtained a first prize, with the addi- 
tional note that ‘ This is a remarkable specimen of a 
remarkable species.’ ” 

An hour or two later we were hurried to the 
family omnibus ready to bear us home. The 
Chihuahua was carried in front of Mrs. Bennett 
in a silk-lined basket, in the manner of a heathen 


THE BARN HAM DOG SHOW 


93 


god. Dr. Coghlan held the basket as Mrs. Bennett 
took her place. 

“ Dr. Coghlan,” she said, “ that fat, greasy judge of 
course showed great discrimination and great know- 
ledge of dogs, but do — do you think he was quite 
sober ? ” 

Dr. Coghlan looked embarrassed. 

“ Excuse me, ma’am, for speaking,” said Higgens, 
who was holding the door open, “ I am sure you will 
excuse me — but there is one fault I have to find with 
my esteemed friend, Mr. Johnson.” 

“He was not sober, Higgens!” exclaimed Mrs. 
Bennett. 

“ He is a total abstainer, ma’am — a confirmed total 
abstainer. He ain’t touched a drop for years. It’s a 
great pity, it makes him so unsocietable.” 

I was about to jump up into the omnibus after Mrs. 
Bennett, when I suddenly experienced a number of 
totally unexpected sensations. There was a move- 
ment in the crowd behind us ; I was conscious of a 
sharp pain in the region of my tail, and of finding 
myself in the carriage without any effort of my own. 
I heard a dull thud, such as might be caused by the 
contact of a heavy human paw with a heavy human 
jaw, and turned round in time to see the human 
mongrel whom I had recently bitten lying on 


94 A THOROUGH-BRED MONGREL 

the ground and Dr. Coghlan with his arm out- 
stretched. 

“ That is a remarkable example of reflex action, Mrs. 
Bennett,” said Dr. Coghlan, looking at his arm in an 
impersonal and critical manner. 

“ It seems to me an example of a very bad action,” 
returned Mrs. Bennett severely, but with a twinkle in 
her eye. 

“ No, but I* assure you, Mrs. Bennett, I never hit 
the man — you know I take a scientific interest in 
these matters. The man struck my left arm and my 
right arm struck him. Pure reflex action ; just as 
when a strong light strikes your eyes and your 
expiratory muscles strike back ; that is to say, you 
sneeze. Most interesting example ; must send it to 
the British Medical Journal!' 

In the meanwhile, the sufferer of this reflex action 
had risen to his feet and was advancing in a threaten- 
ing attitude towards Dr. Coghlan. 

“ Keep out of it, you fool ! ” muttered his companion, 
catching him by his coat collar. “ Yer oughtn’t to 
have kicked the dawg — yer could have pisened him 
later.” Suddenly the expression of his face changed ; 
he might have been seeing a ghost. 

“ Lawks a mercy, look at that, mate ! ” he said 
pointing to the Chihuahua dog, “ look at that ! ‘Fust 


THE BARNHAM DOG SHOW 


95 


prize, His Majesty, remarkable specimen’ — why, blind 
me if it ain’t ‘Drunken Billy!’ Fust prize ! Oh, 
how Menzies will scream ! Fust prize ! Oh, lor ! Oh, 



hold me tight ! Oh, lor ! Oh, lor ! ’’ And both of 
them burst into roars of laughter, rolling about and 
embracing each other in their almost apoplectic mirth 


96 A THOROUGH-BRED MONGREL 

“ Drive on, Higgens,” cried Mrs. Bennett, “ and get 
away from these dreadful men ! ” 

“ Oh, lor ! Oh, lor ! Oh, hold me tight ! ” echoed 
in our ears above the rattle of the carriage, as the 
horses, urged by the somewhat unsteady Higgens, 
cantered down the cobbled street 

V Remarkable example of reflex action/’ sighed Dr. 
Coghlan, seriously, as he settled down in a corner for a 
nap. “ I must send it to the British Medical .” 

Silenced by the monotonous rumble of the omnibus 
and tired out with the day’s exertions, all the Humans 
closed their eyes and quickly nodded. The dull light 
of the smoky carriage-lamp but touched their faces 
dimly, and seemed to focus all its rays to form a halo 
round the Chihuahua dog. 

“ So you’re ‘ Drunken Billy,’ ” I said to myself. 
“You are ‘Drunken Billy’ — well — some day — we 
shall know what Drunken Billy means.” 


CHAPTER V 


A NIGHTMARE AND A RECONCILIATION 
HE week following the great Barnham Show 



was about the most unwagful time I ever had 
in my life. Whenever the Humans addressed me, 
which was seldom (for Jock and I had come to be 
almost totally ignored) I did my best to express 
a reciprocal amiability, but my wretched tail always 
gave me away. It had not a wag left in it. I 
lost my appetite, my hair began to fall out, I suf- 
fered from the most hideous dreams, but my miser- 
able condition escaped the eye of even the dear master 
whom I had adopted and trained for many years. 
Such is Human gratitude ! 

But he, with the rest of the Humans, was at the 
moment perfectly rabid ; rabid over“ Drunken Billy,” 
alias the Chihuahua dog. In honour of this wretched 
impostor (for that he was an impostor I became every 
day the more convinced) were given lunch parties, 


8 


97 


98 


A THOROUGH-BRED MONGREL 


dinner parties, and garden parties innumerable. 
Humans who lived at a distance, and whose desire of 
making Mrs. Bennett’s acquaintance had been over- 
come by the contemplation of a tediously long drive, 
succumbed without demur to the fatal curiosity 
excited by reports of the microscopic size of her 
canine protege. It was stated that he weighed only 
eight ounces, that he could stand on the palm of a 
Human’s paw, that he understood seven languages 
and that he barked in a different manner in reply to 
each of them. The visitors to Mrs. Bennett’s kennel 
had little opportunity of verifying or disproving any 
of these alleged physical qualities or intellectual 
accomplishments, for, as long as their hostess was 
present, the little beast was kept under the strictest 
surveillance and was not allowed to be touched or to 
be removed from the silk-lined basket-kennel in which 
it impudently yapped or incontinently snored. Per- 
haps in the recesses of Mrs. Bennett’s mind there 
lurked a suspicion that, without these protective 
measures, the Chihuahua’s claims to notoriety would 
not bear the searching examination to which they 
might have to submit should any connoisseur of 
Mexican dogs chance to make his appearance. If 
such a suspicion existed it was not only too vague for 
her to recognise, but was also one which, had she been 



n 


I had not a 


wag 


left.” 


% 


L.ofC. 














































I — 

* 




- 






















a 


- 


A NIGHTMARE AND A RECONCILIATION ioi 


reproached with it, she would ' have indignantly 
repudiated. 

Notwithstanding the fact that her books proclaimed 
her to the world and to her friends as a Human with 
the highest imaginative powers, and hence the more 
likely to be deceived, yet the sincerity of her belief in 
the Chihuahua dog was so obvious, and her enthusiasm 
so intense, that they made themselves irresistibly 
contagious. 

True! there were a few who at first were not as 
thoroughly convinced as she was in regard to the 
animal’s familiarity with seven languages, or were as 
capable of detecting the fine distinction in the barks 
with which he responded to them, but their scepticism 
finally yielded to the remarkable exhibition of 
intelligence elicited from the Chihuahua by Mrs. 
Bennett’s nephew Archie. 

This irresponsible and unconscionable Human pup 
would stand near the Chihuahua’s basket and 
solemnly pronounce in the most dramatic and con- 
vincing manner the mysterious syllables “ Hia-wat- 
ta-ta,” which he assured his Aunt was the native 
Indian for “ Beware ! you are being attacked in the 
rear,” “ the only Indian sentence,” he continued, “ I 
picked up during my life out West. There are 
reasons for its being indelibly impressed on my 


102 


A THOROUGH-BRED MONGREL 


memory.” The effect, in favourable circumstances, of 
“ Hia-wat-ta-ta ” on the Chihuahua was certainly very 
remarkable. I should have been deceived myself had 
I not been present at an interview between Archie 
and his bosom friend, a still younger pup than he was. 

“ See here,” said Archie, holding something in mid- 
air, “ d’you ‘ savey ’ what that is — it’s a lady’s bonnet- 
pin, eight inches long.” 

“ Well, what of it? ” queried his young friend. 

“ A pin,” continued Archie oracularly, “ is the most 
universally useful implement in the world ; when held 
in the right place and handled in the proper manner, 
its business capacity is simply irresistible.” 

“ What’s your little game ? ” asked his friend. 

“ A very simple one, my dear fellow. I stand on 
one side of the Chihuahua’s basket — you stand on the 
other. I attract the little beast’s attention, which 
brings his head end, and the eyes of the spectators, 
round to me, and his tail end round to you. With 
your left hand you deftly raise the folds of silk which 
hang round the outside of the basket so that they 
conceal your right hand, in which is held this useful 
little implement of domestic life.” 

“ And then I stick it in ? ” 

“Not until I give the signal,” replied Archie. 
“ Everything being ready for the experiment, I shall 


A NIGHTMARE AND A RECONCILIATION 103 

say, ‘ Hia-wat-ta-ta,’ which we’ll say means ‘ Beware ! 
you are being attacked in the rear.’ Directly you 
hear ‘ Hia-wat-ta-ta,’ in with your pin, far in, right 
through the basket into the Chihuahua. If that 
doesn’t give a different tone to his voice and make 
him right-about-turn I don’t know what will — Ha, 
ha, ha ! ” and the young conspirators roared aloud. 

“ I bet the Chihuahua will respond with intelligence 
and spontaneity. Oh, it’s a grand idea ! My A’nt will 
be delighted.” 

His “A’nt” was delighted. Poor Mrs. Bennett! 
had she discovered that she and her guests were the 
victims of a practical joke executed by two pups 
hardly old enough to have the distemper, it would 
have broken her heart. 

The first “experiment” (as Archie termed it) 
was a grand success. It was performed at a garden 
party which included all the prize Humans of the 
vicinity. 

“ Ladies and Gentlemen,” began Archie, addressing 
the pack with unblushing effrontery, “ with my A’nt’s 
kind permission I am going to demonstrate to you 
the Chihuahua’s knowledge and ready appreciation of 
a language he must have been familiar with in his 
infancy. I happen to know one sentence used by the 
Indian tribes in that part of the West in which the • 


104 


A THOROUGH-BRED MONGREL 


Chihuahua was born. * I will not divulge to you at 
present the meaning of the sentence, but I have 
written it on this piece of paper which 1 place in Dr. 
Coghlan’s hands, and I will leave it to you to decide 
whether the Chihuahua’s action shows a quick 
appreciation — note my words, ladies and gentlemen — a 
quick appreciation of the same.” 

All through this harangue “ Drunken Billy ” was 
snoozing peacefully in his basket, blissfully uncon- 
scious of his impending fate, with his head towards 
the speaker and his tail in dangerous proximity to a 
hidden point. 

“ Now,” said Archie, keeping his eye on his 
accomplice. “ Now — Hia-wat-ta-ta.” 

Yes, the result was remarkable. The Chihuahua 
squealed. even before he opened his eyes. It seemed 
as if he had a nightmare. Awakening suddenly to 
full consciousness, he glared at the assembled 
Humans. As if appreciating a danger he was unable 
to localise, he struggled to his feet. 

“ Hia-wat-ta-ta,” repeated Archie demurely, with 
a look at his friend. The Chihuahua’s little 
carcass bounded in the air, he gave vent to another 
shrill squeal, and turning round satVagely, attacked 
and tore at the lining of his basket which had been 
nearest to his tail. 


A NIGHTMARE AND A RECONCILIATION 105 


“ Dr. Coghlan,” said Archie, “ I will now ask you to 
read aloud the meaning of ‘ Hia-wat-ta-ta.’ ” 

“ Certainly,” replied Dr. Coghlan, “ where are my 
glasses ? Ah ! here we are — -your handwriting is not 
good, Archie, but I think I can make it out — it 
seems to be ‘ Beware ! you are being attacked in 
the rear.”’ 

During the following days the experiment was 
repeated at intervals with the same success, and my 
tail seemed to recover a little of its tone when I 
reflected that the Chihuahua’s existence was not one 
of altogether unalloyed happiness. To be sure there 
was the risk that the constant anxiety of being 
exposed to an unexpected attack in the rear might 
finally tell upon his nerves, and help to preserve the 
stunted growth which was his chief claim upon 
the approbation of the Humans, but this danger was 
to some degree discounted by the fact that Archie, 
when the experiment was over and his Aunt’s back 
was turned, always compensated for the tortures he 
had inflicted by filling the Chihuahua up with 
unlimited supplies of cake and jam. 

At the end of a week, Archie’s confederate took 
his departure, and although “ Drunken Billy ” had 
learnt to regard the sound of “ Hia-wat-ta-ta ” 
as of evil omen,, yet its repetition caused him only a 


106 A THOROUGH-BRED MONGREL 

passing uneasiness when no longer accompanied by 
the application of a pin. 

“ My dear A’nt,” said Archie in explanation, “ if 
your nervous system had been shattered by your 
being persistently told for a week that you were in 
danger of being attacked in the rear, and nothing 
came of it, you’d get a bit phlegmatic yourself ; the 
dog is obviously beginning to see that I am a liar, 
and if I don’t hitch off at once I shall lose all moral 
control over him.” 

Among the not least remarkable characteristics of 
the Chihuahua were the attacks of intense irritability 
to which he was subject. It was in the treatment of 
these attacks that Higgens and Archie had acquired 
such a reputation for exercising moral control over 
him. As a matter of fact, the “ moral control ” was a 
transparent, watery-looking fluid, kept in a quart 
bottle and labelled “ Unsweetened Gin.” It was 
administered on small pieces of sugar, and acted as 
a specific. However snappish the condition of the 
Chihuahua, five minutes of this treatment restored his 
equanimity, ten minutes made him amiably excited, 
fifteen minutes rendered him slobberingly incoherent, 
and in twenty minutes he became what Archie used 
to describe as “comfortably blind.” It is curious 
how clear a track I have of these things now, for at 
the time I followed no scent of them. 



A Thorough-bred Mongrel 


















































































































































% 






♦ 










' r 

































































A NIGHTMARE AND A RECONCILIATION 109 

I never spoke to the Chihuahua, I never looked at 
the Chihuahua, in fact, every hour of the day Jock 
and I resolved in solemn consultation that we would 
not even think of the Chihuahua. We agreed that 
we both were thoroughly miserable, because we both 
were thoroughly ill. The Humans, however, refused 
to regard our cases seriously, and when they addressed 
us at all treated us with an irritatingly amiable levity. 
“ Poor Jock ! has he got a dry nose ! ” said Miss 
Seaton one day in passing. Noiv, thought we, now 
they’ll send for the doctor. But they didn’t. “ Jock’s 
nose is out of joint,” said Dr. Coghlan, patting the 
organ vigorously, “Jock’s nose is out of joint, that’s 
what’s the matter with Jock.” And they passed on, 
emitting those ridiculous cackling sounds which 
Humans describe as laughter. 

“ I say, old gal,” said Jock to me plaintively (Jock 
had got much too familiar with me lately), “ I know 
my nose is dry — but is it — is it really out of joint ? ” 

“ Oh, don’t be a fool, Jock — your nose hasn’t got a 
joint.” However, I had understood Dr. Coghlan’s 
allusion, although I felt it useless to enlighten Jock’s 
bucolic mind. 

On that same day Miss Balhoon arrived at Mrs. 
Bennett’s kepnel on a visit. 

She was a London actress of more or less repute ; 


I IO 


A THOROUGH-BRED MONGREL 


Mr. Singwell said “ less,” but in any case she seemed 
to set all the male Humans by the ears, because, like 
Miss Fretcher, she had toounuch bark about her. 

It was my Pa who had introduced her to Mrs. 
Bennett. He had sat up (“ played ” as he calls it) in 
the same piece with her. This combination of talent 
resulted in a “ run ” of three weeks. My Pa, as usual, 
was cursed by the author and damned by the Press. 
I know these things because I used to take him to 
the theatre every night and help him to dress, or 
sometimes, when I preferred it, to wait in the “ hall- 
keeper’s ” office just inside the stage door. It was 
on one of the latter occasions that the sketch appended 
was taken of me by a belated reporter on the New 
Budget 1 who came to see a dress rehearsal twenty- 
four hours after it was finished. He had to draw 
something, so he drew me. My Pa says it is very 
characteristic. 

I remember Miss Balhoon’s arrival because on that 
day at lunch were discussed many exciting topics of 
conversation, one of which was the indirect means 
of my becoming reconciled to my master. Miss 
Balhoon seemed to have the knack of opening up 
every subject on which -the Humans felt keenly, and 
about which there was likely to be considerable 
April 25, 1895. 


A NIGHTMARE AND A RECONCILIATION in 

difference of opinion. . Personally I enjoy exciting 
topics of conversation. To me there is nothing so 
soothing, so soporific, as the high-pitched inflections 
of a heated discussion. Nothing is so luxurious as to 



“My Pa says it is very characteristic.” 

cushion the chin on one’s extended paws, to wander 
just so far into dreamland that the Humans’ voices 
sound like the murmur of a distant sea, to be recalled 
to reality from time to time by some familiar word or 


A THOROUGH-BRED MONGREL 


1 12 

sudden exclamation, and lazily regarding the troubled 
speaker through half-raised lids to enjoy the contrast 
of one’s own repose. On this occasion the first subject 
discussed was what Dr. Coghlan contemptuously 
described as “ the so-called art of acting.” This topic 
provoked so much difference of opinion and such a 
wealth of monotonous argument that, had it not been 
changed, I feel sure I should have dozed peacefully 
through lunch. The word that startled me and 
brought me back to consciousness was the word 
“ Vivisection,” a word which always frightened me, 
though I was but vaguely conscious of its meaning. 
But the day was sultry and I felt drowsy. I again 
laid my nose upon my paws, and closing my eyes, 
began to wonder what vivisection really was, and 
why it always made my master turn pale and brought 
that look into his eyes of which I was so afraid. 

What followed is a hideous nightmare. Yet at the 
time, what was nightmare, and what was not, I did 
not know. 

* * * * * * 

It seemed to me that the discussion became more 
and more heated, and that my master lost his temper 
and asked Mrs. Bennett’s permission to leave the 
table on the plea that he had an engagement in town. 
I seem to remember his taking me this same after- 


A NIGHTMARE AND A RECONCILIATION 113 

noon into the ward of a large London hospital — I 
think it must have been the hospital at which he had 
studied, as he seemed to know every one so well. 
The ward was a beautiful, roomy kennel, very clean 
and comfortable. A gentle Human, a woman Human, 
gave me cake to eat and milk to drink. Rut it was 
not the cake and milk thaLmade me feel happy. It 
was herself. She wore a soft blue frock and a spot- 
less white apron, which no dog would be too proud 
to soil. She was not pretty, but she had the sweetest 
smile in the world, and the tenderest, most dog-like 
eyes I had ever seen ; kindness shone from their 
depths and warmed one as the sun’s rays through a 
window. I rarely approve of strangers, but I felt 
quite sad when the time came for saying goodbye to 
this one. I let her take me up in her arms and kiss 
me. She stood at the ward door, watching us as I 
trotted after my master down the broad oak staircase, 
and she smiled as I wagged back to her “ Good 
hunting ! Good hunting ! ” I felt that if there was 
a heaven, and I went there, I knew one person I 
should surely meet. 

It must have been this thought that made me so 
absent-minded as to allow my master to get lost. 
Nothing annoys a dog so much as when his master 
goes astray. It seems so stupid, so inattentive. But 

9 


1 14 A THOROUGH-BRED MONGREL 

when he reappears, whistling .loudly in his despair, 
one has not the heart to express one’s disapprobation. 
I waited patiently for some time, thinking he might 
have the sense to return, and then began sniffing 
about for a trace of him. At last I thought I had 
found one, and determined to follow it, although it 
was faint and uncertain, and was crossed by the scent 
of other humans. It led me to another part of the 
hospital, up some stone steps, to a large entrance 
over which was written, “ Schola Medicine. What- 
soever thy hand findeth to do, do it with all thy 
might.” 

I went in and found a great, large kennel with 
swinging doors, on the glass of which was printed 
in golden letters “ The Library.” Here the scent 
became puzzling, but I finally decided that my 
master had walked about outside the library door 
and had then broken away up the stone steps to the 
right. I distinctly traced him past “ The Anatomical 
Theatre ” on the next landing, past “ The Museum ” 
on the next, and then I reached the highest storey of 
all. Everything was silent; the hot sun streamed 
through the large windows and spreading skylight. 
The air was heavy with repellent odours of unhealthy 
animals, with strange suggestions of the shambles, 
and with the sickly fumes of some poisonously sweet' 


A NIGHTMARE AND A RECONCILIATION 115 

smelling drug. Over the door was written “ The 
Physiological Laboratory.” 

“ How the deuce did you get out ? ” suddenly said a 
voice, and I found myself kicked, none too gently, 
through the folding doors. 

“Confound that porter! ” continued the Human 
vainly trying to force his way into another kennel; 
“ he first lets the animals out and then locks the stable 
door. Here, you’ll have to wait in the Theatre for 
the present.” 

“ The Theatre ” was very different from the theatres 
to which my master had been accustomed to take me. 
There was no curtain and no scenery. The stage 
was merely a small platform on which was a simple 
wooden table, covered with apparatus I had never 
seen before. In front of the platform stretched rows 
of wooden benches, tier upon tier, until the hindmost 
were half-lost in the black shadows of the ceiling. 
I climbed up to the darkest corner I could find, 
wondering in what sort of a trap I had been caught 
and how long my stupid old master would take to 
track me. I must have fallen asleep — at least, when 
I next opened my eyes everything was changed. 
Outside it was dark. I had a strange sense that 
something dreadful was happening, or was -about 
to happen. The brilliant rays of light which fell 


A THOROUGH-BRED MONGREL 


1 16 

from a powerful, but shaded lamp, on to the central 
table only served to emphasise the dark, sombre 
shadows haunting the remote recesses of the room. 
Silhouetted against the light were the heads of some 
fifty Humans sitting on the front benches. They were 
chiefly young men. Some whispering and laughing 
to' each other, some taking notes, some lolling back 
in their seats overcome with boredom and drowsiness; 
some eager, pale, and absorbed, with their eyes riveted 
on the platform. 

What was to be seen there ? 

A Human, standing alone behind the table ; a fat, 
heavy Human, with a congested face, a black beard, 
and puffy hands. He was barking in a loud, bullying, 
resonant voice. What was it all about ? — apparently 
about the dead body of a white tame rabbit, stretched 
at full length on its back, and screwed down in a 
kind of trough before him, with its body cut open and 
a long glass tube thrust into a blood-vessel in its neck. 

“ Poor sport ! not half as good as a chase in the 
open,” thought I to myself, when suddenly my heart 
stood still. 

Was the animal dead ? The crimson spots on its 
white fur were still wet, the scent of warm blood floated 
through the air to my nostrils — my coat bristled 
with horror. Now that I strained my eyes I could 


A NIGHTMARE AND A RECONCILIATION 117 

distinctly see the fluttering, gasping movements of its 
chest, the agonised quiver of its limbs, the nervous 
spasm that seized it each time the Human lecturing 
gi&nt approached it with his puffy hands. I cocked 
my ear to catch what he was saying. 

“ This is a pretty experiment, gentlemen, and may 
help to impress on your minds a fact which really 
should need no demonstration.” 

Thus delivering himself, he turned some tap fixed 
in the rabbit’s neck. There was a rush of warm, 
living, crimson blood into the glass tube, a wave of 
convulsive terror swept through the animal’s frame, 
and it seemed as if the wild contortions of its trunk 
must dismember it or break the rack to which its 
limbs were bound. The lecturer, through half-closed 
lids, watched the abortive struggle with an expression 
of long-suffering complacency. Of the students, some 
seemed amused ; one stopped picking his teeth to 
laugh aloud ; a few gave vent to suppressed hisses. 
The lecturer looked up. 

“ Really, gentlemen,” he plaintively drawled, “ you 
disturb yourselves unnecessarily ; the animal will be 
taken out presently and killed.” 1 

1 Founded on a scene witnessed in the Physiological Class of 
Edinburgh University, 1882. See report of Writer’s speech 
made at St. James’ Hall, May 10, 1898. 


1 1 8 A THOROUGH-BRED MONGREL 

I watched this man with a fascinated horror ; the 
more so as from time to time I suspected him of 
peering up into the darkness in which I was trying 
to conceal myself. My suspicions were only too 
quickly confirmed. 

“ The next experiment I shall show you, gentlemen, 
is the effect upon the heart’s action of stimulation 
of the vagus nerve, and I see a young friend up there 
who has apparently escaped from our little dogs’ home, 
and who will doubtless prove an excellent subject.” 

All the students turned their heads towards me. 
The professor’s assistant carried me down, trembling 
and unresisting, for I was paralysed with fear. He 
was not an unkind man, and he patted me encourag- 
ingly. 

“ I don’t think this is one of our dogs, sir.” 

“ So much the better,” replied the professor ; “ it is 
time the custom of bringing dogs to the hospital was 
put a stop to. Fix the animal up and don’t waste 
any time. Is the battery ready ? ” 

“ Shan’t I give her a few whiffs of chloroform ? ” 

“It will only waste time,” was the impatient reply, 
“ and we should have to wait for our demonstration 
until the animal had recovered.” 

The assistant turned rather pale ; he reminded me 
of my master ; he was plain, but he had kindly grey 


A NIGHTMARE AND A RECONCILIATION 119 

eyes. I put my paws upon his shoulders and timidly 
licked his face. He put me down gently and turned 
his head away, at the same time drawing towards me 
a rack similar to the one in which the rabbit had been 
pinioned. I looked at the professor : he was yawning 
and leisurely trying the keen edge of a bright steel 
scalpel on the back of his hand. 1 looked round at 
the circle of stolid, indifferent faces staring at me 
through the gloom. Never as long as I live shall I 
forget that awful moment. It can have been only 
a moment, although it seemed an hour. Suddenly 
the thought flashed upon me that it was all a dream. 
Humans were not devils. I had always found them 
kind and loving. Humans could not torture defence- 
less animals to death. God Himself could not permit 
such things to be. It was a dream, it was a night- 
mare. But I could not awaken myself. The hideous 
nightmare went on. My hair bristled — my eyes saw 
blood. I felt the grip of the professor upon me. 
I turned and bit him madly. A blow with a closed fist 
— a sickening dizziness — and then — when I recovered, 
I was pinioned down as in a vice. The thin whip- 
cord that fastened me cut into my flesh. My 
head was bent backwards over a block of wood, and 
my jaws were immovably fixed with steel screws and 
leather straps. On one side stood the grey-eyed 


120 


A THOROUGH-BRED MONGREL 


assistant, a small sponge in his hand ; on the other 
the professor. With his left hand he deftly parted 
the hair on my neck, in his right hand I saw the glint 
of steel. My eyes started from my head. My skin 
seemed covered with myriads of creeping things. I 
felt the slow, deliberate movement of the naked knife 
in my flesh as the searing of a red-hot iron. All my 
muscles were torn in one convulsive movement — I 
seemed to burst my bonds and with a scream to fall 
through seas of blood on to the floor. 

* * * * * 

“ Hett, little girl, what is it? Hett ! my little 
Hett ! ” 

Surely it was my master’s voice. I scarcely dared 
to open my eyes. Some one lifted me up. It was 
my master. He sat by the open garden window and 
laid me on his lap, gently wiping the foam from the 
corners of my mouth. 

“ Poor little girl ! poor little girl ! she’s had some 
dreadful dream.” 

Thank God ! it had been a dream. I was too weak 
to do aught but lick his hand ; my breath came in 
tremulous sobs ; my heart felt as if it was breaking, 
but breaking with joy. 

That day my master never left me, and at night 


A NIGHTMARE AND A RECONCILIATION 121 


when we went to bed he took me in his arms and 
fondled me, 

“ Have I been neglectful of my little Hett — have 
I?” 

I lay my head against his cheek and kissed him. 
I said to him, out of my eyes-^- 

“ You know you are my world — my all. Love me 
a little — only love me a little.” 


CHAPTER VI 


THE FALL OF THE CHIHUAHUA 
ROM this moment my spirits began to improve; 



^ my master was no longer estranged from me. 
Indeed, to atone perhaps for his past indifference and 
neglect, he was more than usually tender and loving. 
My life became a different thing, the sun seemed to 
shine more brightly, biscuits to taste more succulent, 
and fleas to become more considerate. I do not say 
my happiness was absolutely complete. I was con- 
scious of a flaw in it — the thought of the Chihuahua 
dog. But why should I worry about the Chihuahua 
dog? I loved my master, and my master loved me. 
The Chihuahua be muzzled ! I would go a-hunting. 

But the more I chased the rabbits, the more the 
thought of that wretched “ Drunken Billy ” chased 
me. I remembered that since the night of the Show, 
when we all drove home in the omnibus together, I 
had hardly set eyes on the little beast. I had always 


122 


THE FALL OF THE CHIHUAHUA 


123 


studiously looked the other way. I still retained a 
vivid recollection of his appearance when I first saw 
him, and, feeling happy again, was filled with a burn- 
ing curiosity to see what he was like now. The occasion 
was propitious, the whole pack of Humans had gone 
out on a cycling hunt, the Chihuahua would be left 



“ ‘ Billy,’ said I, in a short yap, looking over the edge of 
the basket.” 


basking in the sun on the terrace in front of the house. 
It didn’t take me long to get there. 

“ Billy ! ” said I, in a short yap, looking over the 
edge of the basket. Billy rolled over in his half-sleep 
and curled himself into a more comfortable position. 
“ Billy ! ” I barked again, determined to force an 
interview. Billy opened one eye, and, seeing that it 
was not a Human who had disturbed him, began 


124 


A THOROUGH-BRED MOJVGREL 


leisurely to stagger on to his legs. Then he pro- 
ceeded to shako himself, and, with considerable effort 
opening the other eye, surveyed me critically. 

“ Oh, it’s you, stumpy legs,” he said, after a pause. 
“ So yer’ve condescended to speak to me at last. Yer 
might ’ave ’ad your ’air cut fust.” 

Impudent little cur ! With one nip I could have 
sent him to the eternal Home for Lost Dogs, but I 
knew the devil would eventually look after his own, 
and I had different sport in view. 

“ Feel pretty well, Billy ? ” I said, smiling amiably. 

“ Well ! Feel well ! Dyer think you'd feel well 
smothered up in these bloomin’ silks and satins all 
reeking with lavender ? Feel well ! with not a dawg 
to talk to, nor a Human who ain’t afraid of ’aving her 
dress spoilt. I’d like to be back at the old shop.” 
I pricked up my ears at this. “ One always got a 
whiff of good old shag and a drop of gin on sugar 
whenever one arst for it — and such liberty, such a 
floor to run about on, all covered with sawdust. 
Law ! what a beautiful aroma it had towards the end 
of the week ! There wasn’t a disagreeable day but 
Saturdays, when they cleaned up — and they was 
never offensive over it There was always a corner 
or so left undisturbed. My corner they never touched. 
It was real mellow. I don’t believe there was another 


THE FALL OF THE CHIHUAHUA 


123 


climate like it in England. Why, even the boss 
Human, the sanitary inspector, noticed it, but 
Menzies said ’e’d rather be fined ,£10 than ’ave 
that corner touched. Oh, they was real nice people, 
they was. None of the namby-pamby, overwashed, 
snivelling, odourless weaklings yer’ve got round ’ere.” 

This was really too much for me. Personal abuse 
I could stand, but I wasn’t going to allow my friends 
to be insulted. 

“ Look here, Billy,” I growled, “do you realise what 
you are? You’re a dirty little misshapen, drunken, 
hybrid freak ; you’re a disgrace to caninity ; in fact, 
you’re not a dog at all. Your father must have been 
a monkey and your mother a mongoose. You’re 
a ” 

Billy interrupted me with an hysterical scream of 
inarticulate curses, his little carcass twisted about in 
contortions of impotent anger whilst he made frantic 
endeavours to scale the walls of his basket-kennel. 
The yielding eider-down, however, gave him no firm 
footing, and he only floundered about like a sheep in 
a bog. 

“ Billy,” I said, when he was thoroughly exhausted, 
for my blood was up and I didn’t mean to spare him, 
“if you were not such a miserable little insect I would 
shake the life out of you.” I put my paws on the 


126 


A THOROUGH-BRED MONGREL 


edge of the kennel and showed iny teeth. “ But, as 

it is, l ean only say ” But the basket was lighter 

than I had imagined, and I had hardly begun my 
growl when the weight of my body tilted it suddenly 
up, and Drunken Billy bounded up in the air like a 
shot rabbit, and, rolling over and over on the pave- 
ment, finally arrived at a position of rest. He found 



“ Drunken Billy bounded up in the air like a shot rabbit.” 


his legs at once, and, standing up, gazed at me for a 
moment in a half-dazed condition. It is a moment 
photographed on my memory. The outline of his fat 
little body stood out against the sun-beaten pavement. 
It was like a picture revealed by a flash of lightning, 
an image lasting on the senses longer than the time 
in which it was actually exposed. The Chihuahua 
had grown ! — grown so decidedly that I marvelled 


THE FALL OF THE CHIHUAHUA 127 

that the Humans had not noticed it, grown so unmis- 
takably that I foresaw the history of his career, which 
it is my painful task to describe, and grown in such 
unfavourable proportions that, hating him as I did, I 
pitied him in anticipation of his inevitable downfall 
from the pinnacle of human adulation to the abyss of 
human contempt. But the occasion did not prove a 
good one for moral reflection, for at that moment the 
sound of bicycle bells and of laughter and talking 
warned me that the pack of Humans had returned. 
The Chihuahua was dethroned, his palace lay dis- 
mantled ; I had committed high treason, and I found 
myself scampering as if for my life to the woods. I 
say I found myself scampering, for I do not admit 
for a moment that I — that is, the thinking part of me 
— would be guilty of such a cowardly and unsports- 
dogly proceeding as running away. But when I found 
myself away, as I did in a couple of minutes, in the 
deepest recesses of the wood, the thinking part of me 
suggested that on this occasion it might be advisable, 
so as to guard against all possible contingencies, to 
endeavour to prove what I believe the Humans call 
an alibi. The dog heard hunting in the woods one 
minute was hardly likely to be the dog who had 
committed a crime on the terrace the minute before. 
As I have mentioned above, I have a remarkably 


128 


A THOROUGH-BRED MONGREL 


shrill and penetrating bark, and, although I was now 
hunting rabbits in a very half-hearted manner, I 
turned my bark on to its fullest value, so as to 
indicate to the Humans that I was thoroughly occu- 
pied in the excitement of the chase. I further made 
myself as dirty as I possibly could, which is saying a 
good deal. 

Notwithstanding these little ruses, I returned to 
the house an hour or two later with a very trembling 
heart. They couldn’t see my heart, but as usual my 
tail was my great trouble. I was jaunty enough but 
for that. They were on the look-out for me as I 
expected. My master and Dr. Coghlan, ready dressed 
for dinner, were chatting on the doorstep. 

“ Come here, Hett ! ” said the former severely, 
“ What have you been doing ? ” I could tell at once 
that he hadn’t seen me, that he didn’t really know 
anything. This gave me courage, and I frisked 
around so as to flatter them with the idea that their 

9 

society was the only joy of my existence (Humans 
are so easily flattered). 

“ I don’t think Hett had anything to do with it,” 
said my master, after a pause. 

“No, I’m sure she hadn’t,” replied Dr. Coghlan. 
He always had that charming amiability of manner 
only to be acquired by a perfect disregard of the truth. 


THE FALL OF THE CHIHUAHUA 


* 129 


“No, I am sure she hadn’t,” repeated my master, 
who had a much more simple character. 

“No, I am sure I hadn’t,” I wagged back — and so 
the matter ended. 

For the rest of the evening I was in the wildest 
spirits in anticipation of the expose which now 
appeared inevitable. The Humans seemed in a very- 
different frame of mind. The ladies were tired after 
their cycling and resolved upon retiring to their 
respective kennels directly after dinner. A tender 
pressure on Miss Seaton’s toe from Dr. Coghlan, 
which was tfie only sub-tabular reciprocity I observed 
during the evening, failed to alter that young lady’s 
decision. The general conversation flagged, especi- 
ally amongst the men, who appeared almost nervous 
and reserved. It was evident that nothing had 
been noticed about the Chihuahua. I gathered 
that the gentlemen had been first to arrive on the 
scene of disaster, that they had found the Chihuahua 
apparently in a fit, that Dr. Coghlan had promptly 
carried him off to the stables, and that the other 
gentlemen had engaged Mrs. Bennett in conversation 
and persuaded her not to see “ Drunken Billy ” until 
he had been treated by Higgens. 

“ The Chihuahua was perfectly right again,” the 
gentlemen assured Mrs. Bennett, but her proposal 
10 


130 A THOROUGH-BRED MONGREL 

that he should be brought to the dinner-table for her 
inspection met with their unanimous disapproval. In 
fact, I had never heard them so unanimous over any- 
thing before. 

“ Perfect rest is essential,” said my master, speaking 
in his medical capacity. 

“He is as unapproachable as Miss Fretcher is after 
reading a critique of her new book,” remarked 
Singwell. 

“ The word ‘ Hia-wat-ta-ta 5 would kill him,” 
chimed in Archie. 

Iliad still hopes, however, that Mrs. Bennett would 
have her own way, until Dr. Coghlan announced that 
he had recently administered a tablespoonful of castor 
oil, and that the occasion was not favourable to 
social intercourse on the part of the Chihuahua. 
This remark of Dr. Coghlan’s is implanted on my 
memory with exactness, as I was the recipient of the 
playful kick accompanying it, a kick apparently 
designed for Singwell and the meaning of which I was 
totally at a loss to understand. After dinner the 
ladies retired to bed, and the gentlemen to the 
smoking-room. Here I met with another disappoint- 
ment. My master, with a vvell-intentioned but perfectly 
unnecessary anxiety concerning my health, insisted on 
my retiring to bed. To oblige him I went ; and the 


THE FALL OF THE CHIHUAHUA 


131 

click of the key being turned in the door after my 
departure filled me with a vague sense of mystery and 
distrust. Of the subsequent events of the evening 
I had, for weeks after, no scent at all, but thanks 
to my late communications with Drunken Billy and 
to what I have since overheard from the Humans 
relating the story, the course of events is now per- 
fectly clear. 

“Now, gentlemen,” said my master, after locking 
the door, “ now that we are at last free from the all- 
too-attractive and irresponsible trammels of female 
society, Human and Canine, let us get to business. 
Dr. Coghlan, I believe, has some important revelations 
to make which may seriously affect the happiness, if 
not the health, of our esteemed friend and hostess, 
Mrs. Bennett.” 

“Well, gentlemen,” replied Dr. Coghlan, helping 
himself to whiskey and passing it on, “ we all of us 
have had our suspicions about the Chihuahua, but 
to-day — thanks! not too much soda — to-day you all 
saw for yourselves. The Chihuahua has undoubtedly 
grown , and if he has grown, then he is not what he 
was represented to be — a full-grown adult — he is an 
impostor — in a word, he is not a Chihuahua dog at 
all, and Mrs. Bennett is the victim of an impudent 
fraud.” 


132 


A THOROUGH-BRED MONGREL 


“ Who’s the chap who sent the dog to Mrs. 
Bennett?” asked Singwell. 

“John Anthony.” 

“ Well, what’s he like? Is he all right? ” 

“Oh, John Anthony is right enough,” said Archie. 
“ He’s a bit rough ; he lives out West, but he’s not the 
man to play a trick on a woman.” 

At that moment there was a knock on the 
door. 

“There’s Higgens with the culprit ; open the door, 
Archie.” 

Since his little fracas with me the Chihuahua had 
had, from his point of view, a very good time of it. 
Higgens had promptly administered a large dose of 
his favourite remedy, and repeated it in teaspoonful 
doses every ten minutes until the patient had fallen 
into a drunken sleep. From this “ Billy ” now 
awakened to find himself with a consuming thirst 
and situated, somewhat to his surprise, in the middle 
of the large table of'a kennel that was strange to 
him. Through the rolling clouds of tobacco smoke, 
emphasised in his immediate vicinity by the brilliant 
rays of the reading-lamp under which he was placed, 
Billy could dimly discern the spotless shirt fronts 
and pale faces of the half-dozen Humans seated 
around. 


THE FALL OF THE CHIHUAHUA 


133 


“ Put him on the table,’* said Dr. Coghlan. 

Billy found himself nipped up by the scruff of his 
neck, whilst his basket was sent flying to the other 
end of the room. Once on his legs he exhibited no 
modesty or indecision in the expression of his 
desires, but made straight for the nearest tumbler. 

“ Give him a plain soda,” suggested Mr. Singwell. 
But Billy, barely sniffing at the plain soda, turned 
away in disgust. 

“ Pardon me, gentlemen,” said Higgens, producing 
a small bottle, “ but if you would allow me to dilute 
it with a drop or two of ‘ unsweetened’ just to take 
the chill off, sir,” he added appealingly to Dr. Coghlan ; 
“ ’e never takes water neat, sir.” 

“ Very well, Higgens, it will at least prove to these 
gentlemen the truth of the extraordinary story you 
have told me.” 

Diluted with a drop or two of “ unsweetened ” the 
Chihuahua lapped the water eagerly, unabashed by 
the gaze of his silent but critical audience, and then, 
apparently invigorated, proceeded to scratch himself 
violently. 

“ Fleas?” said Mr. Singwell, interrogatively. 

“ Yes, sir, fleas,” replied Higgens, gravely. “ 1 
think he enjoys the ’untin’ of them.” 

“ Fleas, I believe,” remarked Dr. Coghlan, “ never 


134 


A THOROUGH-BRED MONGREL 


leave a dog for a man, so we may consider ourselves 
safe.” 

“ That’s natural enough,” replied Singwell. “ On a 
dog, a flea feels he has a house of his own — on a 
man, he has only apartments — at any moment he 
may have notice to quit.” 

“Now, Higgens,” said Dr. Coghlan, “tell these 
gentlemen what you know about the Chihuahua dog.” 

“ Well, sir, it ain’t much ; when the dawg fust came 
to me, sir, I discovered by a mere accident (a little 
drop of gin, sir, I kept ’andy for cleaning the ’arness) 
that the dawg was fond of stimulant. I gave it to him 
as a joke, sir, at fust, but when I saw the dawg 
getting bigger, and I knew Mrs. Bennett expected 
him to keep small, I gave it to him on purpose, for 
nothing stops growth like gin. But in spite of the 
gin he’s getting bigger, and the bigger he gets the 
more gin ’e wants.” 

“ Well, gentlemen,” said Dr. Coghlan, “ the first 
question we have to decide in a scientific and prac- 
tical manner is : Has the Chihuahua grown or not?’ 

“ Are there balance here, to weigh the flesh ? ” 
quoted my master in a tragic tone. Higgens pro- 
duced a small butcher’s scale, on the hook of which 
Billy, secured in a handkerchief tied at its four 
corners, was speedily suspended. He seemed to 





“He seemed to regard the proceedings as specially 
designed for his delectation.’’ 







THE FALL OF THE CHIHUAHUA 


137 


regard the proceedings as especially designed for his 
delectation, and gazed at the surrounding Humans 
with a mixture of saucy curiosity and patronising 
approbation. 

Now, Higgens, hold the scale quite steady ; 
Archie, bring the lamp nearer. Gentlemen ! the 
Chihuahua registers . three pounds, or nearly twice 
the weight he did on his arrival.” 

A prolonged whistle from the men followed this 
announcement. 

“ Poor Mrs. Bennett ! ” sighed Dr. Coghlan, with a 
sepulchral seriousness, “ poor woman, I am so sorry ! ” 

Archie broke into a roar of laughter. 

“ I am surprised at your lack of taste,” resumed 
Dr. Coghlan sharply; “this will prove no laughing 
matter to your Aunt. An account of the dog has 
already appeared in the local papers, and when it is 
known that he is a mongrel fraud, Mrs. Bennett will 
be the laughing-stock of the county.” 

“ Serve her right,” testily replied Archie, “serve her 
right for fooling over the darned thing so much. If 
I had my way I’d drown the little beast, and send her 
the corpse by parcel post.” 

“Yes, I dare say you would — in California ; but over 
here we do things differently.” 

The truth was that Dr. Coghlan s interest in the 


138 A THOROUGH-BRED MONGREL 

Chihuahua was not wholly impersonal. Although at 
the Dog Show he had believed “ Billy ” to be genuine 
enough, yet his conscience had more than once 
pricked him at having allowed himself to be party 
to, if not the instigator of, Higgens’ successful 
attempt at influencing and misleading the judge, 
and now that he found that he had been the aider and 
abettor in a positive fraud, and the prime cause of 
his hostess’s present predicament, he felt distinctly 
uncomfortable. 

“It would be a highly improper proceeding,” con- 
tinued the doctor, “ to make away with the animal 
without Mrs. Bennett’s consent. But she must be 
told the truth at once. The ‘ Chihuahua at homes ’ 
next week must be postponed, and the whole affair 
hushed up as much as possible.” 

“ You propose to tell Mrs. Bennett that the dog is 
a fraud, and that she will be the laughing-stock of 
the neighbourhood ? ” said Singwell. 

“Well, you see, I am so awfully sorry for her, you 
know, that I don’t propose to tell her myself. I 
thought you would do it, my dear Singwell.” 

“ My very dear Coghlan, I really couldn’t, I am 
too awfully sorry for her myself ; but our friend here,” 
indicating my master, “ he’s the person — he knows 
her better than we do.” 


THE FALL OF THE CHIHUAHUA 139 

“ Well,” replied my master, “ of course, I should 
have great pleasure in breaking any sad news to 
Mrs. Bennett. No! no! I don't mean that — but 
you understand. However, I am of opinion that 
Archie is the person to tell her — he’s a relation.” 

“ I don’t see what being a relation has to do with 
it,” grumbled Archie. 

“ There, my dear boy,” replied Singwell, “ you are 
lacking in perception. What is the difference be- 
tween friends and relations? Friends are the people 
one consorts with who are not relations, and relations 
are the people one consorts with who are not friends. 
If Mrs. Bennett hears that you have something to t$ll 
her, she will instinctively know that it is unpleasant. 
The fact of your speaking would be a preparation in 
itself.” 

“You won’t catch me telling her, anyhow, rela- 
tion or no relation. Besides, if the dog isn’t a real 
Chihuahua, why did he jump at the word ‘ Hia- 
wat-ta-ta’?” 

“Well, the whole affair is full of mystery,” said 
Singwell, “ whichever way you look at it, but as no 
one can be found to bell the cat, let us play a waiting 
game. Of course the * At homes ’ must be post- 
poned, we must say the dog is ill. Pass the little 
beggar over here ; thank you ! I thought so ! the 


140 


A THOROUGH-BRED MONGREL 


dog is full of fat. Now can’t'you two medical men 
suggest a way of reducing its weight ? ” 

“ Allow me to examine the patient/’ replied Dr. 
Coghlan, seizing hold of the Chihuahua, who was 
delighted to find himself the object of so much 
attention. “Yes, there is a considerable quantity 
of adipose tissue here, and we might try and reduce 
it. Does the dog take well, Higgens? ” 

“ Beg pardon, sir.” 

“ Does he eat well, Higgens? ” 

“ Eat, sir ! Anything, sir, from a red herring to a 
piece of firewood.” 

“You can give him both, Higgens, especially the 
firewood — but nothing else — nothing else for a week. 
A teaspoonful of castor oil every night. Reduce the 
gin as much as possible, and never give it on sugar. 
Remember, sugar is absolutely forbidden. I’ll send 
you round some medicine.” 

“ We’ll put him on iodide of potassium,” added Dr. 
Coghlan, aside to my master. “ It’s a great alterative, 
and any alteration will be an inprovement ; but I must 
warn you, gentlemen,” he continued aloud, “ that the 
dog is a growing dog, and no treatment will make 
him perceptibly smaller.” 

“ Well, give him a week,” said Singwell, “ and in 
the meantime persuade Mrs. Bennett to take a 


1 

THE FALL OF THE CHIHUAHUA 141 

tonic or something to strengthen her nerves. My 
foot has gone to sleep, but I think it is the most 
sensible thing about me, so I’m going to follow its 
example. Gentlemen, good-night ! ” 

Such, I imagine, is a general outline of the 
consultation about the Chihuahua, held on this 
memorable occasion. Had I known of it at the 
time, I should have been spared a great deal of 
anxiety. As it was, the whole course of contempo- 
raneous events was a mystery to me. Mrs. Bennett 
seemed as much in the dark as I was myself. The 
Chihuahua was said to be ill, there was no cause for 
alarm, at the same time he must be kept perfectly 
quiet at least for a week. All this seemed possible 
enough and yet various little incidents excited my 
suspicions. For instance, all allusions to Billy were 
coldly received and quickly dismissed. The gentle- 
men displayed an unusual interest in each other’s 
society, but were silent and abstracted when with the 
ladies. Lastly, the Chihuahua was kept under lock 
and key and I could devise no trick of getting even 
a glimpse of him. 

After the first twenty-four hours, Mrs. Bennett 
seemed to accept the situation and made no further 
reference to her pet. This encouraged me consider- 
ably, as I had learnt from experience that Mrs. 


142 


A THOROUGH-BRED MONGREL 


Bennett’s silence bespoke danger. Such proved to 
be the case. At the end of dessert on the seventh 
day of the Chihuahua’s retirement, Dr. Coghlan was 
requested, with his hostess’s sweetest smile, to ring 
the bell. 

“ Barrett,” she said, as the butler entered the room, 
“ go to the stables,” Mrs. Bennett still spoke with a 
smile, but there was a cold ring in her voice that 
meant finality, “and tell Higgens to give you at once 
the Chihuahua dog, whether it is well, ill, or dead ; 
bring it to me here.” 

The silence that followed was so complete that I 
could hear the thumping of my own heart. Not a 
Human stirred. The spell would have soon become 
intolerable, had not Jbck opportunely broken it by 
awakening with a noisy yawn. The men shifted 
uneasily in their seats. 

“ Mrs Bennett,” at last said Dr. Coghlan, apparently 
unconscious of the fact that he was holding a 
newly lighted cigar in his hand, “ ah ! if you will 
kindly excuse me — I should like to fetch my 
cigarettes.” 

“ Coghlan ! ” shouted Singwell, “ do you mind 
bringing me— no, no ! if you’ll excuse me, Mrs. 
Bennett, I’ll do it myself.” 

“ Pardon me, Mrs. Bennett,” said my master, nearly 


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The fall of the Chihuahua 



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THE FALL OF THE CHIHUAHUA 


145 


tumbling over me in his anxiety to escape, “ but I 
must really go and see where Hett is.” 

Archie left the room without comment. The other 
gentlemen, rising, and first nervously fingering the 
backs, of their chairs, edged towards the door. By 
the time the butler returned with the Chihuahua’s 
basket the ladies and myself were the sole posses- 
sors of the field. To my surprise, Billy scrambled 
readily out of his basket on to the table. He was 
bigger, uglier, and bonier than when I saw him last. 
He had lost his smooth rotundity, of stomach and his 
skin hung about him in senile, wrinkling folds. Mrs. 
Bennett gazed at him for a moment. She looked 
paler than usual and the smile on her face was as the 
set smile of a mask. 

“ Barrett,” she said, after a pause, “ take this dog to 
the stables, and tell Higgens to keep it there for the 
future,” and rising slowly, she left the room. 

I gave one sharp bark of delight. The Chihuahua 
had fallen from his high estate. The Chihuahua’s 
fate was sealed. 


11 


CHAPTER VII 


BILLY AND I MAKE FRIENDS 

T HE realisation of the great moments of life 
never fulfil the anticipation of them. 

I have hunted the same rat for days and finally 
caught and killed him. A nip, a couple of shakes, and 
it is all over. There is nothing to do with a dead rat 
but drop it. That is what the Humans did with the 
subject of the Chihuahua — they simply dropped it. 
The great denouement had happened, but nothing 
had come of it. I don’t think I had expected to be 
fed for a month on game as a reward for hastening 
the Chihuahua’s exposure, or to be allowed, with Jock, 
to worry the animal on the open lawn ; but I had 
looked forward, perhaps, to hearing the Humans 
inveigh against the enormity of the deception 
practised upon them and to receiving an increased 
approbation on their part of my own thoroughbred 
qualities. I was doomed to disappointment There 

146 


BILLY AND I MAKE FRIENDS 


147 


was nothing in the conversation to suggest to one 
that the Chihuahua had ever existed, or that there 
were such animals as dogs in the world at all. 

Things went on very much as usual, except that 
the garden-parties were postponed on the plea of 
Mrs. Bennett’s ill-health, and the house, speaking 
figuratively, had all the blinds pulled down. Archie 
seemed to be the only Human not affected by the 
general depression, or indisposed to regard recent 
events seriously. 

“ I don’t know whether you fellows are rehearsing 
for mutes,” he said y>ne day at lunch after a long 
pause in a flagging conversation, “ but I foresee that 
if you go in for this sepulchral sort of business much 

longer, I shall follow the example of the Chihua- ” 

(Here Archie was arrested by a small volley of kicks 
under the table.) “ I mean of a young friend we know, 
and take to drink.” 

I recalled this remark later in the afternoon during 
my usual walk with Mrs. Bennett through the rose 
garden, when, having been occupied with a short rat 
hunt, I suddenly missed her and only traced her to 
the stable in time to hear the end of a conversation 
with Higgens. 

“ Well, Higgens, what you have told me amazes 
me very much. I want you to treat the Chi — the dog 


148 A THOROUGH-BRED MONGREL 

kindly ; but I warn you that if I hear of him having 
another drop of alcohol in any form you will be 
dismissed at once — I shall not blame the misguided 
animal, but you.” 

Before Drunken Billy’s degradation I had pictured 
to myself the delight of sniffing disparagingly around 
him, of kicking up the ground in his face, and of 
expressing my contempt in a hundred equally 
delectable ways. Now that the opportunity had 
arrived, some restraining force seemed to hold me 
back, and for days I never set eyes on the animal. 
Jock’s enjoyment of the situation was not alloyed by 
any such compunctions. He used to sit round the 
stables by the hour, rolling out his great tongue and 
grinning at the Chihuahua from ear to ear in his 
undisguised delight of his enemy’s discomfiture. It 
was from Jock that I obtained all the current news. 
The night, he said, on which Billy had been sent 
back to the stables would have made a cat lau^h. 
On Higgens hearing from the butler of Mrs. Bennett’s 
final dismissal of the animal, he almost burst into tears. 

“ I knowed it was no good, old fellow,” he said 
plaintively to the Chihuahua ; “ if a dawg’s got to 
grow, he’s got to grow. I’ve starved yer for a week 
for nothing, but to-night we’ll both have a good blow 
out to make up for it.” 


BILLY AND I MAKE FRIENDS 


149 


And Higgins got the gin-bottle down, and the new 
pound of lump sugar that had lain unopened for a 
week. Twenty-four hours of this treatment made 
the Chihuahua begin to fill out again. On the second 
day Higgens weighed him. “ Well, I’m blowed! ” he 
said, after the ceremony. On the third day he 
weighed him again. “ Well, I’m jiggered ! ” he 
remarked, “ ’e’s positively shooting up, that’s wot 
’e is ! ” On the fourth day the revelations of the 
scale made Higgens reproach himself with such 
conviction as to the certainty of his own future 
damnation, that he finally abandoned this method 
of observation. 

When Mrs. Bennett left the harness-room, after 
giving her instructions as to the Chihuahua’s total 
abstinence in the future, Higgens lighted his pipe 
and gazed at the animal gravely. 

“You heard my instructions, young man; I’m 
mighty sorry for yer, but I ain’t a-going to lose a 
good place, not even for you. I fear there’s trouble 
ahead for both of us ; and there’s ’ell, simply ’ell, for 
you.” 

Much to Jock’s satisfaction, Higgens’ anticipations 
were speedily fulfilled. Billy appeared to be possessed 
of the devil. He would not lie in the same place for 
five minutes together, and when he tried to walk 


ISO A THOROUGH-BRED MONGREL 

about he shook like a horse with the staggers. He 
wouldn’t wag his tail, he couldn’t cock his ear, he 
couldn’t touch his food ; he couldn’t sleep a wink 
in the daytime, and he howled all through the night. 
The strangest thing to me was that Jock’s recitals of 
Billy’s woes, instead of filling me, as they should have 
done, with boundless delight, inspired in me almost a 
feeling of impatience. 

“Yes, I’ve heard all that before,” I snapped at him 
on one occasion. 

“Oh, have you?” he growled. “Well, you won’t 
hear it again, anyhow ; and for the future you can 
make your own inquiries about the Chihuahua.” 

This I had occasion to do sooner than either of us 
anticipated, for at that moment a howl of pain that 
made my heart stop beating was heard in the direc- 
tion of the stables. 

I started to my feet trembling, with ears erect 
listening intently through the silent air. There was 
the sound of a scurry of feet, the swish of a stinging 
whip, and the hideous scream was repeated once again. 

“ What’s that ? ” I panted, standing as still and as 
cold as a dog carved in stone, the hair bristling on 
my back. 

“ That’s Higgens giving Billy his dessert,” sneered 
Jock, “ to make up for his taking no dinner.” 


/ 






















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BILLY AND I MAKE FRIENDS 


153 


Yes, I had guessed it even as I spoke, but it was 
Jock’s cynicism that broke the spell that paralysed 
me. Lash upon lash, howl upon howl. My heart 
beat to bursting, and the warm blood seemed to 
break through its floodgates and set my body in 
a glow. I rushed off to the stables. 

“ Go it, softie ! ” shouted Jock after me ; “go and get 
thrashed too.” 

I hardly turned to give him a mocking laugh. If 
there * had been a dozen Humans and a dozen 
whips, I would have faced them all. Every fibre of 
me was on fire and cried out for blood, blood, blood ! 

I reached the stable-yard just in time to see Higgens 
kick the Chihuahua into a corner, where he lay silent 
and apparently stunned. 

In one moment my teeth met in the fleshy part of 
Higgens’ leg, and in another I had sprung a couple of 
yards away from him, and was standing in front of 
his victim. Not a second too soon, for, as I had anti- 
cipated, Higgens, with a savage oath, brought the butt 
end of his whip on the pavement behind him. 

“I did it! I did it! ” I snarled fiercely, facing him 
and showing all my teeth ; “ and if you budge one 
inch towards me I’ll make for your scurvy throat ! ” 

I stood ready to spring, the hair bristling on my 
back. I knew that the bite of a dog was Higgens’ 


54 


A THOROUGH-BRED MONGREL 


pet terror, and, being acquainted with my perfect 
amiability, he might easily imagine that my present 
outburst indicated a rabid condition. Whatever his 
impressions, his face became an ashen grey, his lips 
twitched ; the whip, which he had a second time 
raised to strike, fell slowly to his side., and, watching 
me like a scared rabbit, he backed slowly and silently 
into the harness-room and closed the door. 

I turned my attention to the Chihuahua. 

A more pitiable object cannot be imagined. He 
lay huddled up in the corner feebly licking the 
weals which had been raised by Higgens’ whip. I 
could not help feeling a kind of motherly pity for 
him. Poor little beggar ! After ail, it was not his 
fault that he was a mongrel. But how to make 
friends ? True, he was only a puppy ; but he was 
a bad-tempered puppy, he was a puppy recovering 
from the after-effects of chronic alcoholism and of 
a very acute castigation. Considerable tact must 
evidently be exercised. I said nothing. I simply 
lay down at full length beside him, my head resting 
on my outstretched paws, and gazed into his eyes. 
Whenever he became conscious of my presence I 
beat the ground with my tail in modest, but approv- 
ing, gratitude. At last my patience was rewarded. 
He looked at me, and began to make little nervous, 


\ 



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I wish I wos dead. 

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BILLY AND I MAKE FRIENDS 


157 


fluttering wags. I wagged back, sedately, quietly, 
and encouragingly. 

“Hot weather!” I ventured at last to suggest, 
lolling out my tongue. 

“ My back’s ’ot,” said the Chihuahua, with signifi- 
cance, and ruefully licking one of his weals. He 
still spoke with a cockney accent, but the aggressive 
impudence of his manner had changed to an apolo- 
getic timidity. 

“What did he whack you for?” I asked. 

“ He’s always whacking me,” whimpered the Chi- 
huahua ; “ he’s whacked me every day this week. 
My life’s a ’ell. I wish I wos dead ! I can’t get a 
drop to drink. If he puts a sup of ale on the table 
he watches me through the key-hole to see if I 
touches it. It ain’t playing fair. To-day he left a 
quart bottle of gin uncorked. I was crazy to get my 
nose into it, and it fell over and broke. If I had had 
time to get a few laps I wouldn’t have minded the 
thrashing. I wish I wos dead ! ” 

I gazed at this pathetic little freak in wondering 
amazement. He was the first drunken canine I had 
ever met. 

“ What do you want the beastly stuff for ? ” I said 
at last. 

“ Wot do I want it for?” yapped the Chihuahua, 


i 5 8 


A THOROUGH-BRED MONGREL 


lapsing for a moment into his old shrill voice ; “ what 
do I want it for? — What does a fish want water for? 
Why, to live in it — I b’lieve I wouldn’t mind being 
drownded if I was drownded in gin. You needn’t 
stop wagging. You wasn’t brought up on gin as I 
was. Whose fault is it that I am a drunkard ? Why, 
the fault of the Humans. Whose faultis it that Human 
pups grow up drunkards ? Why, the fault of their 
dams. Mother Menzies kept all her pups quiet with 
gin. Lots on ’em did in the Dials. There ought to 
be a law against it.” 

This reference to the “ Dials ” brought back to my 
mind a subject more serious even than the Chihua- 
hua’s inebriety. 

“ Billy,” I said seriously — “ I believe your real name 
is Billy?” 

“That’s me,” replied Billy, quite humbly; “ Drunken 
Billy.” 

“Well, Billy, I’m sorry for you, and I’d like to be 
your friend ; and I will be, if you’ll answer one 
question. On your word of honour as a sportsdog 
and a gentledog : Do you, or do you not, come from 
Chihuahua ? ” 

Billy groaned aloud. 

** Puppy blind me if I know what yer mean by 
‘ Shiwawa ’ ! I may have come from there. I may 


BILLY AND I MAKE FRIENDS 


159 


have travelled hundreds of miles before 1 opened my 
eyes. Hut I remember nothing about it. All I can 
remember is Menzies, and the Dials, and the lovely 
gin on sugar,” and Billy groaned again. He was 
evidently speaking the truth, and could throw no 
light on his parentage or origin. When would the 
mystery of John Anthony’s letter to Mrs. Bennett 
be solved ? 


CHAPTER VIII 


THE MYSTERY SOLVED 


ROM that hour Billy and I were sworn friends. 



1 His happiness became the one object of my 
life. For its accomplishment I felt that two things 
were necessary. He must break himself of the liquor 
habit ; he must be reconciled to the Humans. Both 
achievements were full of difficulty, but I persevered. 
I sought Jock’s assistance. 

“If we dogs are to convince these Humans,” 
thought I to myself, “we must all work together.” 

Jock would have none of it. “ Consort with that 
mongrel?” he said. “Not I!” But Jock had a 
sneaking un- Platonic affection for me, although he 
was ten times too old — I mean too big — to make 
any serious proposals. At length I won him over. 
Hour after hour he and I used to roll about in the 
stable-yard trying to cheer Billy out of his fits of 
depression. Higgens was bewildered. 


THE MYSTERY SOLVED 161 

“Two weeks ago,” he used to say to the stable 
hands, “them dogs would have killed the Chihuahua 
and now look at ’em ; why, they might have been 
cradled together ! ” 



“ Jock would have none of it.” 


The spectacle, coupled with the memory ox the 
punishment I had inflicted, had an effect upon 
lTiggens’ mind, and when Billy was caught dram-steal- 
ing his punishment was quite of a perfunctory nature. 


12 


162 


A THOROUGH-BRED MONGREL 


On several occasions Jock and I helped him to a 
little alcoholic relief in the front of the house. On 
our side the spirit of adventure was the temptation- 
on his side the spirit of gin. When the male Humans 
had retired after their wine we gave the signal to 
Billy to come in and have a general lap-up. But one 
night Barrett, the butler, appeared earlier than usual. 
There was a rush, a skurry, a smash of broken glass, 
and although, thanks to Barrett’s discretion, the 
culprit was never discovered, we realised it was time 
that such tactics were discontinued. 

Besides, my purpose was not to provide Billy with 
stimulants, but to cure him of alcoholism. I felt the 
great thing was to distract his mind at the time at 
which he had the greatest craving. 

One night he was very bad indeed. He would 
have given his soul for a good lap of gin. 

“Billy,” I said, “did you ever hunt a rat? It’s 
great sport.” 

“ Don’t want to hunt rats,” replied Billy, irritably. 
“ I want a drink.” 

“ He’s afraid,” growled Jock, acting on the instruc- 
tions I had previously given him. 

The result was just what I had anticipated. Billy’s 
back bristled with indignation. 

‘ Afraid /” he snapped. “ Afraid ! I may be 


THE MYSTERY SOLVED 163 

u gly, I may be drunken, I may be badly bred, but 
I ain’t a coward. Come on ! ” 

So off we all started to the old Winthorpe barn, 
where there was always good hunting to be had. 
Billy quickly proved he was no coward, but also that 
he had not the slightest knowledge of sport. His 
scent was very feeble, and his movements so slow 
and clumsy that I had bagged three fine fellows 
before he had got within biting distance. 

“ This is how you should tackle them,” said I, 
killing my fourth with a clinching nip in the 
back. But Billy had his chance at last. I dis- 
tinctly traced a scent up to a large truss of straw 
in the corner. 

“Ten biscuits to one,” I barked, “there is some- 
thing here. I’ll put him out for you. Now mark 
Jock! mark, Billy!” They were hardly in position 
when one of the finest rats I have ever seen broke 
cover and bolted for his hole. Had I been in Billy’s 
place that rat would have gone to his eternal home 
too rapidly for him to note the details of his departure. 
Billy just managed to grip him by the hind legs. 
The rat turned and savagely fixed on Billy’s lip. To 
this day I often wag to myself when I think of that 
delightful fight. 

“ Keep away, keep away ! ” shrieked Billy, as I 


164 


A THOROUGH-BRED MONGREL 


offered to lend him a mouth. “ I’m going to finish 
this job myself.” 

But whether Billy would finish the rat or the rat 
finish Billy seemed for some time an open question. 
Over and over they tumbled on the barn floor, whilst 
Jock and I barked our approbation. At last, with a 
supreme effort, Billy managed to shake his enemy 
off, and, seizing him again in a more sporting manner, 
to put an end to the dispute. 

It was a proud moment for the Chihuahua when he 
placed the corpse of the defunct rat at Higgens’. feet. 
It was an action that proved as diplomatic as it was 
magnanimous. 

“ Well, I’m jiggered ! ” said Higgens, touched in his 
sporting instinct, which was his most tender point. 
“ So you’ve killed that big, ugly beast, almost as big 
as yourself, and you’ve brought it to me to show 
you’ve forgiven me ! Well, you re a beauty, you are 
— a real beauty ! ” 

Billy accepted his unexpected honour with modesty, 
but this, his first release from Human ostracism, filled 
him with delight.. Life opened out new occupations 
and new possibilities. From this time forth he grew 
not only in stature but in wisdom. Whenever the 
drink craving seized him he would come to me and 
say — 
































Well, you're a beauty, you are a real beauty ! 



THE MYSTERY SOLVED 167 

“ Mrs. Hett ” (Billy had grown quite respectful), 
“ I feel a bit low. May I join you in a rat hunt ? ” 

And so the autumn days crept on. Humans came 
and Humans went. Miss Fretcher, Mr. Singwell, 
Miss Seaton, Dr. Coghlan had gone, but I felt sure 
I should see them all again. The last two, before 
they went, had become — dear me ! what is the word 
I want ? — well, very intimate. Dr. Coghlan had bought 
Miss Seaton a diamond ring and placed it on her 
finger with great ceremony. It was a beautiful ring, 
certainly, but not so beautiful as to account for the 
importance Dr. Coghlan seemed to attach to it, or to 
explain the tears it brought into Mrs. Bennett’s eyes. 

“ The ceremony must be celebrated in our village 
church here,” Mrs. Bennett said. “ I shall expect to 
see you all again in three months from now.” 

In the meantime Billy had become a changed 
being. Physically he was strong, healthy, and robust ; 
mentally he was quaint, modest, and retiring. He 
was allowed, in the daytime, the run of the house, 
and, as (through the exhilaration of his new-found 
happiness and his surplus stock of aggessive gratitude 
towards all men) he had acquired an unfortunate 
knack of getting under the Humans’ feet on every 
possible occasion, he became a dog that made his 
presence felt, and who, in his absence, was missed. 


1 6 § A THOROUGH-BRED MONGREL 

Only one thing seemed lacking to complete his 



“Dear me ! what is the word I want?” 
Copyrighted June, 1899. 


happiness. His own mistress, Mrs. Bennett, whom 


THE MYSTERY SOLVED 169 

he worshipped at a distance, never gave him a caress 
or a word of approbation. True, she never reproved 
him. She seemed simply unconscious of his exist- 
ence. 

“What am I to do,” Billy used to groan to me, 
“what am I to do to obtain her forgiveness? It 
wasn’t my fault that I grew big and made a fool of 
her.” 

“Well, I think she would like to know who you are 
and what you are ; but you can’t explain that, as you 
don’t know yourself. But you be patient, Billy ; 
Mrs. Bennett is a sweet, kind Human, and it will all 
come right in the end.” 

It was pitiful to. see poor Billy following Mrs. 
Bennett with his eyes, walking round her at a 
distance with an apologetic air, and seeking to win 
her recognition with self-deprecatory wriggles. 

One memorable day, towards the end of October, 
there was a great stir in the house. Innumerable 
guests began to arrive, and amongst them many old 
friends. Mr. Singwell and Miss Fretcher, apparently 
on the best of terms, came by the same train. Archie, 
who had been away on a visit, returned, accompanied 
by the young friend who had assisted him in his 
demonstration of the Chihuahua’s knowledge of the 
Indian language. Billy’s huge and ungainly pro- 


170 


A THOROUGH-BRED MONGREL 


portions caused Archie the greatest delight as he 
seized the dog by his front paws and waltzed him 
round the hall. Miss Seaton, Dr. Coghlan, and my 
master were all among the newcomers, the first two 
being positively radiant with happiness. 

And now, when I least expected it, came the 
revelation which I had been months awaiting and 
which brings this history to a close. The last guest 
to arrive was an American gentleman. I suppose it 
was the peculiar inflections of his voice that excited 
Billy’s curiosity and prompted him to run forward 
and get entangled in the stranger’s legs. 

“ Christopher Columbus ! ” muttered the stranger, 
picking himself up and looking at the ashamed 
Billy. “ What in the name of heaven is that ! ” 

“ How do you do, Mr. Anthony ? ” said Mrs. 
Bennett, coming forward to welcome her guest. “ I 
am so sorry. ‘ That,’ ” she added, pointing at the 
cause of the disaster — “ ‘ That ’ is the present you 
so kindly sent me from Mexico. ‘ That ’ is the 
‘Chihuahua Dog.’” 

Mr. Anthony sat down in the nearest chair and 
wiped the perspiration from his brow. 

“ You’re joking,” he said at last. 

“ That is the animal, Mr. Anthony,” replied Mrs. 
Bennett, “ which your brother delivered here as your 



“What in the name of heaven -is that?" 



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173 


THE MYSTERY SOLVED 

present of a Chihuahua dog from Mexico. You 
remember your letter — I know it by heart. ‘The 
soft-eyed Mexican, from whom I bought him, swore 
by all she held holy that he was three years old, had 
attained his full growth, and that ages would not add 
one ounce to his weight. I am told that these dogs 
are so intelligent that they can be taught to understand 
any language, and so sensitive that their large eyes 
fill with tears at a word of reproval. I have not yet 
seen this one weep with any degree of bitterness, and 
I have not had time to try him with Ollendorf, but 
when I see him again I have no doubt he will be 
entirely polyglot.’ Now, Mr. Anthony, that you see 
him again, you will be able to test the value of your 
expectations.” 

Mr. Anthony leaned back in his chair. 

“Here!” he said in his casual American way to 
the butler, who was standing near, “ fetch me a 
telegraph form— we’ll soon have this mystery cleared 
up. My brother happens to be on this side, and I’ll 
trouble him for an explanation.” Mr. Anthony’s 
telegram was duly despatched, and it was at the very 
end of dinner, when Mr. Anthony’s body was refreshed 
and his spirits revived, that the answer was received. 

“ Christopher Columbus ! ” he muttered, after read- 
ing it. “Well, it isn’t my fault, Mrs. Bennett, but still, 


174 


A THOROUGH-BRED MONGREL 


of course, I apologise most profoundly. This is 
what my brother says : ‘ Forgot to feed dog you gave 
me . He died en route. Bought another dog in Seven 
Dials said to be Chihuahua. Gather from your telegram 
he has not proved satisfactory. Awfully sorry. Did 
best I could! ” 

Nobody laughed. Nobody spoke. There was a 
dead silence. Mrs. Bennett turned towards Billy. 

“ Come to me,” she said. 

Billy put two paws on her lap and gazed at her 
out of his soft brown eyes. She passed her hand 
gently over his shaggy head. 

“ I’ve suffered through you,” she whispered, “ but I 
am hypersensitive, and it wasn’t your fault. I 
suppose you have suffered through me. Will you 
forgive me ? ” 

Billy just jumped quietly on her lap and laid his 
head against her cheek. If there were no tears in 
Billy’s eyes, there were tears in Billy’s heart, which 
felt so full that it must break. 

* * * % *- 

« 

I was an old dog when these things happened, and 
now I am an older dog still, and waiting patiently to 
pay that debt to Nature which has to be paid by all 
Humans, all dogs, all living things. Only one thought 
troubles me. It is this — When I go forth into the 


THE MYSTERY SOLVED 


75 


great Unknown, shall I ever see my dear Master 
again, the kind Sister at the hospital, the few friends 
I have loved, but whom I have loved so well ? 

Billy needn’t think of these things; Billy is happy; 
Billy is still in his prime. 

Visitors at Mrs. Bennett’s house, visitors with per- 
ception, know there is one certain way of winning 
their hostess’s affection — it is by bestowing a friendly 
word or kind caress on Billy, who is still known as 
“The Chihuahua Dog.” 



The End. 




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